Doppelganger
by BreakingFable
Summary: Emperor Matthew's world is dying. Jeff Hardy is the key to his survival, whether he wants to be, or not. AU Jeff and Matt Hardy, Undertaker, HHH, Jericho, Regal CHAPTER 13 UP NOW!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Emperor Matthew's world was dying. Jeff Hardy was the key to his survival.**

**A/N: I own no one and nothing recognizable in this fic. All honor goes to the great and powerful WWE.**

**Please Read and Review.**

"**Doppelganger****: a ghostly double or counterpart of a living person."**

Overlooking a world of fire and scorched earth, Emperor Matthew I surveyed his domain. Hot winds stirred his long, black hair, and blew sand into his eyes. Unblinking, his cold gaze roamed the barren lands.

"My liege", a clipped, accented voice sounded from behind him, "There is news from the north."

He turned slowly to face his trusted lieutenant, who stood waiting in respectful silence. Matthew quietly asked, "What is it, Regal?"

The domineering soldier, who was feared throughout the land as a result of his remorseless enforcement of Matthew's most terrible orders, bowed his head as his emperor's cold eyes fell upon him.

"Your wizard has sent word", Regal replied, "He has completed the task that you set for him. He will be here within the week."

The young monarch's pale lips twisted into a mirthless smile. "Excellent. Keep me informed of his every movement. If I am right," he said musingly, "he carries with him information that is most valuable to me."

The emperor turned his attentions back to the dead landscape before him then, letting his dark eyes roam its rock-strewn plains and blackened vegetation. Lieutenant Regal bowed and began to take his leave, knowing when his liege no longer required his presence.

The cruel mercenary had clawed his way to the comfort of his current position by openly destroying all who stood in his way. He was intelligent, manipulative, and deadly with the swords that were currently strapped to his back. And yet, despite all of this, he was the only one to his knowledge that Emperor Matthew would turn his back to in such a casual display of trust. Was this an acknowledgement of Regal's loyalty, or simple foolishness on the part of the young emperor? The lieutenant doubted it was the latter.

Matthew heard Lieutenant Regal slink away, back into the shadows of the fortress. He ran his long fingers back through his tangled locks, trying unsuccessfully to straighten them.

A well-built man in his mid-thirties, Matthew was both darkly handsome and keenly intelligent. He had cold brown eyes which never failed to catalogue every detail of every situation he was placed in, and thick pouting lips, perpetually pulled into a tight frown. A short, clipped goatee adorned his round chin.

An errant thought suddenly forced its way into his head. Matthew pictured his wizard, Marckus, and wished in an impatient and petulant manner that he would return. He smiled to himself as he thought about the havoc Marckus must be wreaking amongst the people. The emperor's mage was a monster of a man with long red hair and stark white eyes. Some whispered that the emperor's pet wizard had been made in the very fires of Hell itself, a demon in human form. Most who speculated openly about such things became ghosts very quickly, however. The emperor's dungeons were full of rebels and malcontents.

The young monarch turned to go inside, out of the wind and searing heat of the pit fires. Marckus would return soon, with information on the gateway. The gateway would be opened. His dark eyes flared as he thought of the glories that awaited him on the other side. The gateway would be his salvation.

* * * * * * *

The winter night was deepening in Cameron, North Carolina.

A frigid wind moved through the high evergreens, gusting strong enough to shake snow from the lowest branches onto the ground. A bright moon, half-full in the sky, illuminated the idyllic landscape that was Matt Hardy's property.

Suddenly, the front porch light went on, and the door was pulled open violently. Jeff Hardy stood in the doorway, his body tense, staring back into the front room.

"Yeah, well, fuck you too, Matt!", he yelled at the top of his voice, not caring that he was screaming obscenities in the front yard at 2:00 in the morning.

He began to slam the door shut, but Matt put a foot in it, effectively stopping him. "Come back inside, Jeff", Matt said in a low voice, his gaze dark and guarded.

Jeff glared at him. "Why don't you just fuck off?", he replied evenly.

Matt stared at his younger brother for a moment, searching for something to say to him. He shook his head and sighed, a hint of pain flashing across his otherwise stoic face. Matt mumbled something about coming back inside, then moved back into the now-silent house.

"God dammit", Jeff cursed under his breath as he sat down heavily on the front stoop. Reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a metal lighter with the Hardy Boyz logo on it.

He lit up and took a deep inhale, pulling his coat closer around himself to keep out the biting cold. His eyes closed as he thought back to the fight he'd had with his brother. It wasn't often that Matt and Jeff Hardy fought, but lately, it seemed, they had been at each other's throats constantly. Jeff couldn't figure it.

Sighing and running a hand through his disheveled blue-green hair, he took another puff. He barely even remembered how tonight's clash had begun. They'd been talking over beers, discussing Matt's title and Jeff's recent matches.

Matt had done what he always did whenever he saw an opportunity for gold looming. He'd begun to tell Jeff which direction he should take, and how he should handle a possible title shot. Jeff had quickly grown annoyed with his brother's advice, which was, as usual, patronizing and overbearing, at least from his point of view. Jeff's annoyance had quickly escalated into anger. Matt had appeared unaffected by Jeff's outburst, and had tried to be the rational one. That was Matt, always the rational one. Just once, Jeff wanted to see him lose it. It would make him feel better about himself.

Jeff stood, trying to get some heat back into his limbs as he finished off his cigarette. The freezing air had cleared his head, and the tobacco had soothed his frazzled nerves. He took a deep breath, and turned towards the house. He would get up early and make breakfast for Matt tomorrow. Someone would have to apologize first, and he figured it would be easier to kiss Matt's ass over a table of steaming hot pancakes.

Suddenly, Jeff whirled around, his hair flying into his face. He'd heard something back there, he was sure of it. His wide eyes studied the trees lining the edge of Matt's property, seeking out any hint of movement in the blackness. Finally, after a drawn-out moment of frozen fear, Jeff roused himself and moved into the house, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

In the trees outside of Matt's house, he watched the blue-haired man go back inside. He smiled widely. His lord would lavish great fortune upon him, after this discovery. He rubbed his large hands together eagerly in anticipation, his milky white eyes trained unerringly on the red brick house.

The gateway had been shut for far too long. Now, at long last, he had found the key.

* * * * * * *

**Two earths, two Matts. The way I see it, two Matts can never be a bad thing, right? R/R!!!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I have a simple equation for you. Marckus = Mark = Undertaker. Didn't know if I was clear enough about it in the story. **

**We're building to some crazy stuff, kids. Enjoy! Oh, and REVIEW, if you feel like it! I love reviews!**

The morning light, and the pleasant smell of pancakes wafting up from the kitchen, woke Matt. He lay in bed for a moment, thinking back to the previous night. A frown crossed his face. He hated fighting with Jeff.

Suddenly, he heard shuffling footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards his room. He got up, and threw a t-shirt over his head. A knock sounded at his door, immediately followed by Jeff entering, tentatively.

"Oh, hey", said Jeff, who was wearing blue and yellow striped pajama pants and a wifebeater, "Thought I'd do breakfast today, to make up for last night's stupidity. I think it was the beer talking…"

Matt reached over and hugged him. "No apology necessary, Jeffro. I know I get overbearing sometimes."

"Wow, simple as that?", said Jeff, looking genuinely surprised.

The brothers began walking towards the breakfast feast that Jeff had prepared.

"So, what are you doing today?", asked the younger Hardy, as he piled several pancakes onto his plate.

Matt spoke as he ate, not caring if his mouth was full. Decorum went out the window when it was just he and his brother. "I have to go into town and run some errands. Then, I might stop by Shannon's place and visit him for a bit. What about you?"

Jeff shrugged. "I'm just gonna hang here, and probably work on some paintings I've been neglecting for far too long. Let me know how Shan is doing. If you guys are going out later, I might join you."

Matt nodded, and smiled. It was going to be a good day.

* * * * * * *

Emperor Matthew sat on his onyx throne. He ran his long fingers lightly over its smooth surface, delicately tracing the runes of power that had been carved into the armrests. Power ran throughout this throne like the very blood in Matthew's veins, spells of protection and empowerment blanketing him completely.

Raising his chin slightly, he looked down at the wretch currently serving as his court assistant. The thin, bald man had nervous, darting eyes, and a twitch. As he tried desperately to avert his bloodshot eyes from Matthew's cold gaze, beads of sweat began to trickle down the sides of his face. Matthew sighed in a long-suffering manner, and rolled his eyes.

"Court Assistant!", he said then, his voice cold. The man jumped, every muscle in his thin body tensing as he realized he was under his emperor's full scrutiny.

"Yes, My Liege?", he said, bowing so that his pointed nose nearly touched the floor.

"I am ready to receive my guests now. Bring them in."

Bowing again, the frail-looking man left to gather the small group huddled in the lushly-appointed foyer. The emperor sat impatiently, waiting for them to return. He was eager to have this meeting over with. Having peasants in his home made him feel disgusting, even if he was only allowing them entrance so he could collect taxes. He scowled, unconsciously pulling his robes protectively around his person.

"My liege."

Matthew jumped up, turning to face the deep, raspy voice that had sounded behind him. There were no doors, other than the one he'd been watching the whole time.

The young emperor smiled darkly as he looked upon his court magician, Marckus.

"Up to your old tricks again?", he asked dryly.

The daunting mage bowed at the waist. He faced his emperor grimly, white eyes revealing nothing.

Matthew stepped forward, any attempt to feign pleasantries now at an end. His eyes were wide, his face a pantomime of eager frustration. The young monarch said quietly, his voice shaking slightly, "What did you discover?"

The huge magician betrayed nothing by his expression.

"Soon, we shall be free of this place", Marckus replied, his voice hushed.

Matthew's eyes widened.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway beyond the door.

"What did you discover?!", Matthew repeated, his tone more urgent when he saw Marckus' unwillingness to be completely forthcoming.

The enigmatic mage smiled, a smile that did not reach his white eyes.

He replied simply, "The key."

Before he could elaborate any further, his great head swung around to face the closed door. He scowled for a moment, then turned to face Emperor Matthew again. Without a word, he bowed at the waist, then stepped backwards several steps. As he touched the wall, all color seemed to simply drain from him and pool into the marble floor. He stood against the walls, blending in almost completely, and when the mage stopped moving, Matthew found that Marckus became invisible. The young emperor blinked his eyes, attempting to break the illusion's hold on him. Marckus shifted in his hiding place suddenly, leaning forward slightly, an odd smile on his bearded face. The strange magician coyly raised a finger to his lips then, in a gesture of silence. He then leaned back, and blended in with the marble walls once more.

Matthew stood there dumbfounded, even as the great, carved doors to his throne room swung open and the village representatives shuffled in reticently with this month's meager offerings.

Clearing his throat shakily, the nervous Court Assistant announced, "Emperor Matthew I, Lord and Liege of these great lands, may I present-"

"Get out."

"B- But, my lord-"

"GET OUT!"

The peasants immediately ran out, not pausing for a moment to look back. The Court Assistant started to bow his way out of the room, but his knees were shaking so badly that he stumbled and fell.

"Forgive me, Lord-", he whispered, nearly in tears as he attempted to pull himself to his feet.

"Guards!", Matthew nearly screamed in frustration. Four heavily-armored soldiers ran in at his command, weapons at the ready. The young ruler sat back, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to stem a rapidly-growing headache.

"Kill him", he hissed, pointing a steady finger at the doomed man. His guards acted with deadly efficiency, dragging the Court Assistant away. Matthew ignored the man's piteous cries, which grew more and more distant as he was taken to the dungeons below the keep.

The Court Assistant would be dead by the setting of the suns.

Once silence had replaced the chaos, Matthew turned his gaze to the spot on the wall where Marckus had disappeared.

"I believe it is safe to come out now", the emperor said dryly.

The mage's gravelly voice sounded from directly behind Matthew's throne. "Yes, my lord."

Turning to face the court magician, the emperor asked, "We will have no more interruptions now. Speak, Marckus. Tell me everything that you found, and what it means for us."

"The gate to the second earth, my lord", he replied slowly, his tone thoughtful, "It is locked tight. Everything that I have done to try and open it has failed." The great wizard scowled, and shook his head. He suddenly looked up, meeting his emperor's eyes directly as he continued. "But recently, I discovered the answer in a half-destroyed spellbook that was rotting in the Archives. It contained information about the gateway, and spells to navigate it. It also gave a list of extremely specific rules."

Matthew's brows furrowed in confusion. "Rules?"

Marckus's white eyes betrayed no emotion, yet Matthew could tell he was excited about something. "Yes, my lord. I read this, and I believe I understand. Using the gateway is all about balance. You see, everyone has a double in each dimension you shall come across. The same faces covering different souls. A thousand different dimensions, a thousand doppelgangers, all completely different from one another and yet, at their core, related. Even you, my lord, have a twin on this other earth that we are so desperately trying to reach."

Matthew's eyebrows shot up as he stared at Marckus unblinkingly. "Oh?"

"This, my lord, is the crux of what we shall need in order to make the gate function. Balance. Your doppelganger must be alive on the other side in order for you to pass through. The same will be true of the men in your army, and anyone else passing through to the other side."

Matthew steepled his fingers, narrowing his eyes as he pondered Marckus' report. "That seems too easy", he murmured thoughtfully, his eyes roaming over the spacious throne room.

Marckus smiled, and bowed his head in deference. "Whoever sealed the gateway did not wish it to be opened again."

"What must be done?" Matthew's eyes burned with eager fury.

"There is an added stipulation. Very specific. Almost. . . prophecy-like in its phrasing. I have studied it exhaustively, and I believe I know what it means, but perhaps I should show it to you before I tell you my theories-"

"Read it to me", Matthew said, his voice low and even-toned. He was most dangerous when in this mood, and Marckus would not test his temper further. Pulling the worn and beaten book from under his tunic, the grim man opened it gingerly and found a short passage written in red on the margin of one of the moth-eaten pages.

"Blood and blood,

Blood aged black,

Broken bonds,

Brothers lack.

Blood is painted on the door,

Death lays beneath the floor."

"Brothers. . .", whispered Matthew, "Jeffrey. . ."

"Yes", replied Marckus excitedly, "This passage seems to imply not only that your brother is somehow important to the opening of the gateway, but also that he will be unable to fulfill this destiny."

"Marckus", Matthew said quietly, "you know very well that my brother was stillborn."

"My lord, I believe your brother's doppelganger will be of great use to us. You see, judging from this passage's placement in the book and its particular phrasing, I believe we will need his blood to open the gateway." He paused. "I have seen him." When Matthew did not react outwardly, he continued. "Using the spells outlined in the book, I was able to briefly transport myself to the earth we so covet." He stopped, closing his eyes and taking a deep, unsteady breath. "It was. . . very beautiful." After a moment, he opened his opaque eyes and once again met his emperor's cold gaze. "I located the double of your deceased younger brother. His name is Jeff Hardy. He is some type of- athlete. He will serve our cause very well."

Matthew nodded, and stood. "Bring me the Black Guard."

Marckus bowed, and started for the door.

"Marckus", he said, causing the tall mage to turn and once more face his emperor, "I do hope, for your sake, that you are not wrong about this."

Nodding in acknowledgement of the not-so-subtle threat, the tall man pivoted and walked silently out of the throne room.

* * * * * * *


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey and hello to everyone that's still sticking around to read this thing! To Cheryl24, thanks for reviewing, and I know Marckus' explanation in Ch.2 as to why they needed Jeff was a bit muddled. Short answer, yes, they need him to pass through to our earth. More will be revealed as the story unfolds.**

**I own nothing, Vince owns everything, la dee da da. **

**On with the fun!**

Something was terribly wrong. Jeff's quick eyes scanned the canvas before him, searching the kaleidoscopic splash of colors for imperfections. He furrowed his brow in annoyance. Something didn't look right. He narrowed his eyes, and stepped back, taking care not to trip over the piles of stuff he'd accumulated in his makeshift studio. He gazed at his artwork, tapping his paintbrush on his temple absentmindedly. Finally, he decided to add a few strokes of blue in the upper right corner.

He smiled. Much better.

He grabbed a towel and wiped his hands. It was getting late in the day, and he was getting hungry. Maybe he would clean up and see what Matt and Shannon were up to.

Suddenly, the door to the studio opened with a crash, ricocheting loudly off of the wall. Jeff's head swung around, his eyes wide, every muscle in his body tense with fear.

There were four well-built men, all wearing what appeared to be black armor and each wearing a curved sword on his hip. The bottom half of their faces were covered by black cloth, making their appearance, if possible, even more unsettling. The intruders clung to the late afternoon shadows like advancing spiders. Jeff backed up, staring at his odd-looking attackers and not knowing what to make of them.

"What are you doing in my house?", he asked in a voice that sounded shaky even to his own ears, "What do you want?"

The young Hardy groped around desperately for something, anything, to use against the four strangely-dressed, mask-wearing men that were moving in on him. He found nothing substantial, nothing that would inflict any serious damage. They were almost upon him, surrounding him in the small, cluttered room.

No one moved. They stood, muscles tensed, as if waiting for an unspoken signal to fall upon their prey. And then, without warning or pretense, one of them dove forward, knocking Jeff backwards into the wall.

They moved in to get a secure hold on Jeff, who in turn struggled and beat against them. Hardy kicked one of them square between the legs, causing him to double over in pain. He ran for the door, but found his way blocked by two others. They stared at him, their eyes cold. The blue-haired man began to back up, trying desperately to think of a way out of this. An idea came to mind, one that he thought just might distract them enough to allow him to squeeze out of the door. He lunged forward, and pulled down the mask of the man standing to his right. And froze in shock. Jeff stood staring into a very familiar face.

"Edge?", he said softly, his eyes roaming the other man's face in disbelief.

The de-masked Edge said nothing, staring back at Jeff in what appeared to be cold and silent defiance. This confused the young Hardy even more. If this was a joke, it wasn't turning out to be very funny.

Jeff's gaze turned slowly to the other men in the room, who pulled their masks down as well. Orton. Kane. Batista. They were sneering mockingly at him, as if he was the brunt of a very cruel joke. The Enigma glared at the silent assemblage.

"Alright guys, enough", said Jeff, stepping towards the unmoving group, "What's going o-"

Pain exploded behind his eyes, and the colorful studio disappeared into shadow.

* * * * * * *

Matt stumbled out of Shannon's car, laughing as he nearly fell into the snow piled in his front yard.

"I can't believe you gave me Absinthe!", he giggled, holding onto the car's roof for support.

Shannon smiled proudly, replying, "Shame you're such a lightweight."

"Am not", slurred Matt. He batted his messy brown hair away from his face.

Shannon cracked up laughing. "Sure thing, Matty. Can't wait to tell Jeff about this one. His big strong brother gets wasted after one shot."

Matt just grumbled in reply. "G'night, asshole."

"'Night, lightweight."

Matt slowly made his way into the warmth of the house, vowing to never in his life imbibe Absinthe again. His head was already pounding. He should've known better when Shannon took it out of his "special cabinet".

Massaging his tortured head, Matt called for Jeff. No answer. That was strange. Even if he'd gone out to get himself dinner, he should've been home by now.

"Jeff!" The older Hardy roamed the darkened halls of his house, looking for his younger brother.

"Jeff!!" No reply.

A wisp of freezing air stung his cheek suddenly, traveling past him down the upstairs hallway. What the hell?...

Matt could hear a note of fear begin to creep into his normally pleasant tenor. "Jeff, you up here?", he said hesitantly. He approached the door to Jeff's upstairs art studio slowly, peeking around the doorframe.

Wreckage lay everywhere. Paintings, complete and in progress, were thrown to the floor, torn apart, broken in half. Paint cans had been spilled all over the floor. There were great slashes in the wall, and one of the large windows overlooking the property had been smashed outwards.

Matt stood in the doorway, his brown eyes wide, his face the picture of anguish.

He stared at a pool of red liquid on the floor, and nearly passed out. Oh God, was that blood? He swallowed hard, and leaned heavily against the wall, trying to stem the feeling of nausea rising into his throat.

What had happened to his little brother?

* * * * * * *

"My liege."

Emperor Matthew opened one eye, gazing with extreme annoyance at his court mage, who had invaded his chambers in the middle of the night.

"What do you want, Marckus?", he asked, his voice hoarse from the clinging remnants of sleep.

"The Black Guard was successful in their mission, my liege", the great mage replied, his gruff voice pitched low, "The key has been brought to our realm, as commanded."

Matthew sat up, all weariness gone.

"Where is he?"

"The dungeons, my liege. I shall have him brought to you."

"Yes, and while I am waiting, send me Regal. If I am awake, I may as well attend to some business."

Marckus bowed, and left.

While he dressed, Matthew wondered, not for the first time, what his brother's earthly twin would be like. Not having a brother had afforded him many advantages. There had been no dissenting voices, at least from the royals, when he had risen to power. A brother could have challenged him for the throne. Matthew ran a hand through his long, black hair. Would this twin resemble him in any way, or would he be a simple fool, like the peasants Matthew kept under his boot? He sat down in front of the fireplace, and stoked the dying flames. The young monarch honestly couldn't figure out which option he'd prefer.

Matthew was deep in thought when he was interrupted by a clipped, accented voice sounding from the partially open door.

"My lord? You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes, Regal, come in, and close the door", said Matthew, who was straightening his rumpled jacket in the mirror. After a few moments, he turned to face him.

"I've received intelligence that there are whispers of a new rebellion", Matthew said, disgust written plainly on his features, "These pathetic malcontents have gathered what they consider to be an army, somewhere in the forests south of here. I want you to find them, and bring me their leaders' heads."

"Forgive me my ignorance, lord", Regal said carefully, his blue eyes cataloguing every nuance of his emperor's bearing, "but I know nothing of these doomed rebels. Who is it that would dare to lead an uprising against you?"

"The Hunter, and the Lion." The two most feared and ruthless opponents to Matthew's rule, leaders amongst the people, both charismatic and charming, both utterly deadly. The young emperor glared at his lieutenant, as if challenging him to refuse his order.

Regal stiffened. "I had heard nothing of their return, my liege."

Matthew stepped closer, his controlled movement reminding the soldier of a striking snake.

"Do not burden me with your incompetence", the young monarch hissed, "I haven't the patience, or the time. Kill them both, Regal. Do it, or it shall be _your_ head hanging on the city gates."

Matthew turned and sat then, an unspoken dismissal. Regal bowed wordlessly, making his way out of the candlelit room without a sound.

The young emperor stoked the flames of the fireplace, waiting for Marckus and the others to arrive. Despite the fire's close proximity, he found that he felt cold.

Suddenly, there was a tap at his door, subtle, yet unmistakable. They had arrived.

"Come", he called, angrily trying to push down the errant nerves roiling in his gut.

The door swung silently open. Matthew stared, before breaking into a predatory grin that gave even Marckus black chills.

* * * * * * *


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me so, so long to update this. I love this story, but it's complicated and makes my head hurt sometimes if I think too much about it. : )**

**Anyway, thanks very much to those of you who reviewed. Cheryl24, you were right on the money; he needs Jeff to pass through to our earth. **

**As always, WWE owns all, I own nothing.**

Jeff's head hurt. This was the first thing of which he became aware as consciousness slowly, ever so slowly, seeped back to him. The second was the fact that he was having difficulty breathing. His chest felt heavy, as if there were a terrible weight on it. As he clawed his way back to full awareness, he realized that laughter, ugly and brutish, surrounded him in a harsh discord. He blinked his eyes open, and looked up through groggy, sleep-blurred eyes. Jeff stared.

There was a man sitting on his chest, a filthy man dressed in rags. He was leaning over the young Hardy, in order to trap his hands above his head. Jeff had never seen him before. His mind raced. What was going on?! Was he being assaulted by a homeless person? Lewd comments were called out, and Jeff suddenly realized that he and his attacker had an audience of several equally dirty people. They obviously thought the situation was hilarious and were egging the man on.

Jeff struggled weakly, but his head was still too muddy. "Get the fuck off of me, man!", he said angrily, trying desperately to free his arms.

Where the hell was he? It looked like some type of… prison cell, with stone walls, a layer of foul-smelling straw laid upon the floor, and a row of imposing-looking bars laid across the entrance. He had to fight down a rising swell of panic when he realized that he'd been kidnapped. A surreal feeling of dread began to rise up in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him.

Jeff felt the man restraining him shift slightly, bringing him back to his more immediate peril.

His attacker stared down at him through a curtain of filthy brown hair, his smile revealing a row of broken, crooked teeth. He leaned down, and roughly grabbed a handful of Jeff's blue-green hair, sniffing it like an animal. "Mmm, you smell like flowers." The man's breath reeked, causing Jeff to recoil.

A burst of laughter sounded from the men standing behind him.

"Who the hell are you people?", Jeff asked quietly, his voice shaking.

The man ignored him. He stroked Jeff's face with his filthy hands, leaving trails of dirt on the previously clean skin. "You're pretty. Green eyes. So rare to see green eyes anymore."

The men, who had been rambunctiously laughing, were now watching with rapt and silent attention. Jeff had a sinking feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

The filthy man began to lean further over him, a widening smile on his cruel face. Jeff shrank back in terror.

Suddenly, the man cried out in pain. He grabbed at his back for a brief moment, before falling limply on top of the traumatized Hardy. His filthy compatriots scattered everywhere, at least as far as they could in the small stone room they'd all been penned in. Jeff, confused, sat up, pushing the man's bulk off of him. He was horrified to see a crossbow bolt sticking out of his back. His head shot up, looking to the direction the shot had come from.

"MARK?!", he cried, jumping up, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, or scream.

His savior stood in the doorway, coolly wielding a small wooden crossbow. The Undertaker himself, Mark Calloway. Something seemed off, but Jeff pushed it away, ignoring his gut feeling.

"Mark, what the hell?!", cried Jeff, taking a step towards the tall man, "Where are we? And who the hell are these people? Edge and his buddies tore up my studio, man. I'm gonna tear him a new-"

He stopped talking abruptly, realizing that Mark was not listening to him. He was speaking in a low voice to the guard at the door.

"Alright, I've had enough. Wherever you guys were going with this joke, you win, okay?"

Mark stopped talking abruptly. He glared at the young Hardy, fingering the hilt of the knife hanging on his belt.

Now Jeff knew something was wrong.

"Mark?", he whispered, praying that the Phenom would answer him. The huge, pale man merely appraised him like a butcher sizing up cattle for slaughter.

"Your eyes…", whispered Jeff, backing up against the wall as he realized what it was that had seemed off about the man.

Marckus had not taken his gaze off of the petrified boy. "Guards, take him."

Jeff knew that this would not be good for him when the other prisoners in the cell began to whisper prayers, or tried to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible.

Two armored men entered, wielding a variety of dangerous-looking weapons that Jeff wanted nothing to do with. He raised his hands, to show that he wouldn't fight them. They took him in hand, one of them holding him still while the other roughly tied his hands behind his back. Turning him to face Marckus, the burlier of the two guards kept a tight hold on Jeff's arm, so tight that he couldn't stop himself from grunting in pain once or twice.

They dragged him out of the cells, and up a long, narrow, slippery flight of stairs.

A few minutes and several long, winding flights of stairs later, they arrived at a very beautiful, very intimidating doorway, all carved stone and dark wood.

Marckus tapped lightly in a specific pattern, to alert whoever was in there that they had arrived. A voice sounded from the muffled confines of the room: "Come!"

Jeff knew that voice. He'd heard that voice almost every day of his life. He stiffened in the grips of the guards, as if bracing for a blow.

Marckus pushed the heavy door open easily, and took Jeff's arm. Half-turning, he dismissed the two guards, who went on their way.

Jeff, meanwhile, was staring unabashedly at Matt, or whoever this… person was. Because this was not Matt. He'd known the second he laid eyes on him. Matt's eyes were warm, kind, pleasant. This man's eyes were cruel. Jeff shivered.

Marckus pushed him further into the lushly appointed room, and he found that he was too exhausted to fight him. His headache was returning. And the guy who looked like Matt was staring at him, up and down. It was disturbing, to say the least.

"Jeffrey, I presume?", the man said, a tiny smirk written across his too-familiar features.

Jeff glared at him, studying every nuance of his face, looking for faults he knew he'd find if he just dug deep enough. "Jeff", he replied coldly.

"Hmmm… Jeff…", said "non-Matt", rolling the new word around, tasting it. Finally, he shook his head, a white-toothed grin upon his face, "No, I believe I prefer Jeffrey. It suits you."

Jeff furrowed his brow, annoyed. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me who you are?"

He smiled, the expression appearing somehow affectionate in his cruel face. Jeff found the contrast disturbing. "I suppose I could, if you must know. Marckus?"

He looked to the tall Undertaker look-alike standing behind Jeff. The young Hardy turned slightly to face him as well, but found that he was disturbed by the man's milk-white eyes. He quickly turned away.

Bowing slightly, Marckus said reverently, "He is Emperor Matthew I, lord of all he surveys."

Jeff appeared shocked by this revelation. He stared openly at Matthew, eyes wide, mouth agape.

"Fucking EMPEROR?!", he said, "Emperor of what? What exactly do you _survey_?"

Matthew ignored him. Instead, he contented himself with closely studying his prisoner's appearance.

The awful man gestured to Jeff's head. "Your hair", he said, grimacing, "What a perfectly dreadful color. You do this to yourself?"

When it appeared Jeff was through answering the barrage of mundane questions, Marckus grabbed his shoulder, and began to painfully apply pressure.

"God dammit!", he swore, pulling his shoulder out of the mage's death grip, "Yeah, I dye it myself, so what?"

Matthew shook his head in mock distress. "No, it simply won't do. We shall have to fix it. I cannot have you in my presence, looking like that."

Jeff glared daggers at the strange man, hating him all the more because he wore his brother's face.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, or are you just going to make snarky fashion comments all day?", said Jeff, his voice cold. He was rewarded with a punch to the lower back by the huge Mark look-alike standing at his shoulder. Jeff stumbled forward from the force of the blow, but caught himself before tumbling to the floor.

Matthew smiled, a small, secret smile that made the young Hardy's skin crawl.

"I do what I please, Jeffrey", he replied. The words held weight, an underlying meaning. Jeff shuddered.

The hateful man rose from his comfortable seat, and walked slowly to Jeff, his eyes locked to his prisoner's face. The younger man, formerly so defiant, found his conviction wavering under the heat of the emperor's gaze, which was utterly dark and brimming with intelligence and ruthlessness. As he reached Jeff, his eyes boldly raked over every detail of the blue-haired man. Jeff tried to back away, only to find himself in the arms of Marckus.

Matthew reached up, cupping Jeff's cheek gently. Jeff tried to pull away, but found he was unable to. He was trapped.

"Look at me", commanded the young monarch. Jeff found that he had no other choice. His green eyes, formerly directed at the floor, shot up to stare at this perverse imitation of his brother. Matthew smiled, and stroked a thumb down Jeff's cheek, as if to reward him for his obeisance. Jeff did not move. The rope was beginning to chafe his wrists, and Marckus was holding his arm so tightly that he was sure the flow of blood was being affected.

"You wish to know why you are here", Matthew said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Jeff's face grew hard again. Before he could say anything, the emperor began to run his fingertips lightly down the soft skin of his neck. Jeff tensed, glaring furiously at his captor. Matthew ignored him, continuing his ministrations with a steady hand. He moved to Jeff's hair, pushing long fingers through the tangled locks.

"You are here", the man continued, his full attention seemingly on a stubborn knot that had lodged itself into Jeff's thick hair, "because I have willed it so. You see, Jeffrey", he got the imposing tangle free with a painful yank, causing Jeff to whimper in pain, "I am liege lord of many lands. All that I see, I conquer. Including you." He smiled, but there was nothing comforting in it. Jeff unsuccessfully tried to back away again.

Matthew swooped forward, taking hold of his hair, though this time it was anything but gentle. Grabbing a handful of blue-green strands by the roots, he twisted and pulled until Jeff was practically screaming in pain.

"You are so weak", the Matt look-alike hissed in Jeff's ear, "I had expected more of you."

"Fuck you!", Jeff cried, his eyes tearing at the uncomfortable sensation of having his hair nearly ripped from his scalp.

Grabbing Jeff's arm in one hand and keeping his deathgrip on his hair in the other, Matthew pulled the younger man away from his court mage and violently threw him to the ground. Jeff's head bounced off of the lushly-carpeted floor, dazing him for several moments. When he finally regained his senses, he saw the young emperor standing over him, his face completely devoid of any emotion.

"It is a pity", Matthew said finally, after a long, uncomfortable silence, "I had hoped to at least get the chance to have a civil conversation, just once, before the end."

"The end?" Jeff sat up too quickly, causing his head to start spinning again. He ignored it, questioning urgently, "What the hell do you mean, 'the end'?"

He smiled. "The end of all the days on this earth." He closed his eyes and sighed, as if this were the most beautiful thing he could possibly imagine.

"What are you talking about?", Jeff said, his patience past gone, "I want to know why you've brought me wherever it is we are! Tell me, god dammit!"

An emotion crossed the man's face that was too quick to register, and Jeff thought it could've been his overactive imagination playing tricks on him again. But he was sure this cruel and sadistic man had looked sad for a moment.

"You are here for a simpler reason than that, Jeffrey", Matthew said musingly, his eyes locked to the younger man, "You're here to die."

Jeff stared up at his captor, unable to form a reply. His gut tightened as Emperor Matthew I announced the emotionless death sentence. Wherever he was, whoever these men were, there would be no cavalry to rush in and save him from certain doom. These people were going to kill him. And death was going to come at the hands of a man who looked exactly like the person he loved most in the world.

He barely noticed when Marckus dragged him to his feet and began pulling him out of the room. He looked back over his shoulder as he was herded out, but couldn't see his brother's evil twin in the dim shadows of the candlelit room. He wondered if it had been a terrible dream. Jeff subtly pulled at the rough ropes binding his wrists. He meekly gazed at the tall, white-eyed man, whose huge hand rested on his shoulder like a great, dormant threat. No, he realized grimly, this was no dream at all.

* * * * * * *


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay, I hadn't added onto this story in a hundred years, simply because I'd been working on a couple of other fics ("Papercuts" and "Uninvited", shameless plug!). But, I've missed this one, so I'm going to start it up again. If it ends up the way I want it to, it'll be kind of massive in scale, with a bunch of WWE doppelgangers showing up everywhere in the AU Jeff fell into, not to mention Matt's troubles in the real world. So, if you're not already so confused that you've left, read on! I promise lots of fun, and lots of angst.**

**WWE owns all, I don't own a thing.**

Matt wandered the back halls of the arena, aimless in his frustration and despair. There had been no word about Jeff, no word in a week's time, and it seemed everyone, including the police, were at a loss as to what to do next. So he waited.

Mr. McMahon hadn't wanted him to return to work this early after the "incident", as it was being called now, but Matt knew that if he stayed in that big empty house by himself, he would lose what was left of his mind.

He tried to tell himself that there was still hope. He tried to ignore the probable fact that every day Jeff was missing, there was a slimmer chance of him being found alive. He kept telling himself that Jeff would be fine. He had to be.

Suddenly, Matt collided with a solid mass of unyielding muscle. He jumped back, startled, and stared up into the flat, cold eyes of the Undertaker. Normally, he would've had the good sense to be startled. Now, however, he couldn't muster enough energy. Muttering an incoherent apology under his breath, Matt moved to continue down the long hallway.

"Hardy", growled the Deadman, stopping the younger wrestler in his tracks.

Matt turned slowly, asking in a low voice, "Yeah?"

"They found your brother yet?" The Undertaker's tone was completely unapologetic for the boldness of the question.

Matt just shook his head in reply, his gaze preoccupied and lackluster.

"I feel so helpless", he whispered. He didn't want to talk to the Undertaker of all people about this. He hardly knew the man. But he'd asked. Now that he'd begun speaking, all of the pain and frustration of the past week came pouring out in an unstoppable gush. "The police don't seem to know what they're doing, and there's nothing in the world I can do to help", his voice broke, "Jeff could be dead."

"He ain't dead, kid", came the quiet, rough reply. A heavy hand dropped onto Matt's shoulder.

A tear slipped down his pale cheek. When the Undertaker reassured him, Matt almost found himself believing it.

A dangerous thing.

* * * * * * *

Jeff's mind was reeling from his meeting with Emperor Matthew. His mind was reeling from everything that had happened over the last hours. He shot a glance over to Marckus, who was currently dragging him down a perilously narrow set of stairs.

"Keep moving, or you shall pay for my lost time with the flesh off your back", he growled, his cold white eyes raking over a very frightened, very exhausted Jeff.

Jeff decided not to respond. Instead, he quickened his pace to match the long strides of the intimidating mage. Once Marckus appeared satisfied, the young Hardy ever-so-carefully began to look around him, trying to memorize the way they were going. Left, left, right, down two flights, left…

He realized they'd been walking for an awfully long time. He'd lost track of their path a long time ago, not that it mattered. This place was guarded like a damn fortress. He sighed quietly. His entire body ached. He longed to lay down and sleep, even if it was only in Emperor Matthew's filthy dungeons.

He didn't want to spend the last hours of his life like this.

They came to a stop abruptly, jolting Jeff out of his dark thoughts. They stood in front of a worn wooden door, which was guarded by two sword-wielding soldiers. The men nodded in deference to Marckus, standing aside so that he and Jeff could enter the room beyond.

"Where are we?", asked Jeff, trepidation in his voice. When he exhaled, his breath misted in the cold air.

The mage had taken hold of his arm again, guiding him roughly along.

Marckus' odd gaze flitted over to his prisoner, before returning to the dark path ahead. For a moment, it didn't appear as if he would answer.

"Cells of the Damned", he growled quietly, a small, strange smile finding its way onto his face, "This is where Emperor Matthew's most dangerous enemies are kept."

Jeff's eyes widened. Oh god, they were going to lock him in with psychopaths. Killers. Would he even live long enough to be killed by the emperor?

After moving down a very long, very dark hallway, they made a sharp left turn. The space widened then, into a short row of cells. Torches burned on the wall, throwing the room, and its unfortunate occupants, into sharp relief.

A loud, pain-filled moan sounded from the end of the row, causing Jeff to gasp and move a step back.

Marckus dragged him forward, pulling him towards one of the cells in the center. Jeff struggled, attempting to free himself from the grip of the larger man.

"Just let me go!" Jeff tried kicking the larger man, though his exhaustion made him clumsy. He missed by a mile.

The mage, past all patience, grabbed hold of Jeff's throat and threw him into the wall next to the cell. Jeff froze as he looked into his captor's rage-filled eyes.

"Please…", he begged, choking in Marckus' freakishly strong grip.

The mage glared, tightening his hold.

"Don't…" Jeff was passing out.

Blackness replaced the dim torchlight, and silence covered the pain-filled moans of the dying.

* * * * * * *

"If he's who you say, my vote is that we open his throat, right now, before he wakes up and makes a fuss."

Jeff stirred. His throat felt swollen and achy. Had someone been talking?

"No. This man is an enemy of the emperor, the same as us."

Jeff groaned, and opened bleary eyes. A heavy silence fell when the other prisoners realized he was awake.

The young Hardy sat up, holding his head gingerly and grimacing in pain. He looked around him with trepidation, realizing he was being watched intently by two grim-faced prisoners. He wondered if he would be allowed a chance to recover from Marckus' attack before they began theirs.

"Get it over with", said Jeff, his voice hoarse and angrily defiant.

One of the men stepped out of the shadows. Jeff gasped.

"Evan?", he whispered, staring up at him with wide green eyes. The image of Evan Bourne stood before him, gazing down at him with reserved compassion.

The man knelt in front of him. "I believe you've mistaken me for someone else." A sad smile crossed his lips. "The emperor's evil eye has fallen upon you, Jeffrey."

Jeff gazed at the other man in the cell, wishing he could see his face.

The Evan look-alike moved closer to Jeff, who scrambled backwards in fear.

"Easy, my friend", he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of friendship.

Jeff did not relax in the slightest as he moved behind him. Suddenly, he felt a tug on the rope binding his wrists, and then, he was free. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stretched the taut muscles of his neck and arms.

The young Hardy stood slowly, feeling every muscle in his body scream at him in protest. He put a hand on the rust-covered bars fronting the cell for support.

"He is too important to the emperor's plans! We must kill him!", spoke the prisoner hiding in the shadows at the back of the cell.

Evan, or whatever his name was, turned and stepped in front of Jeff. "He has done nothing to warrant a death sentence! If we kill him, we fall to Emperor Matthew's level. I know you are full of hate, Shainen, but even you know that taking innocent life is not the answer."

The shadowy prisoner stepped forward then. It was the face of his beloved friend, Shannon Moore, twisted in fury, and that fury was directed completely at him.

"Shannon?", Jeff breathed, his eyes wide in shock.

"Back off, my friend." The man protecting Jeff spoke softly.

"I never did anything!", Jeff said to the desperate man wearing Shannon's face, "I don't understand why you hate me so much!"

"Matthew killed my family", said Shainen in a low tone that was far too calm for the words he was speaking, "He slaughtered them in front of me. The bastard made me watch as they died. He did it to punish me for speaking out against him in the villages." Shainen's gaze met Jeff's then, and it turned the young Hardy's blood cold. "Damn you, as long as you live, he wins. He wins!"

The tortured man lunged for Jeff, fingers splayed, going for his already- bruised throat. Jeff let out an unintelligible cry, and dove to the side to avoid him. Evan's twin managed to wrestle him to the ground.

Panting, Jeff stared at the broken figure lying on the ground, wearing the face of one of his closest friends. Matthew had done this. He looked around at the dim, filthy cells, listened to the moans of the dying prisoner at the end of the row.

He closed his eyes and felt a sense of vertigo hit. At this moment, he truly wondered if he was losing his mind.

* * * * * * *

Not finding him in his room, Marckus began to search the keep for the emperor. He passed cowering servants in the halls, his white eyes roaming over them as if they were a part of the staidly-carved masonry.

Following an instinct borne of many years under Matthew's service, the imposing mage turned his path towards a narrow, twisting stairwell leading to the roof. As expected, he found his emperor standing at the top of a small guard tower, looking out upon his ruined lands.

"My liege", said Marckus quietly. He stood at the entrance to the tower, waiting for some acknowledgement from Matthew.

"Where did you put him?", asked the young monarch, not moving from his intent study of the landscape.

Marckus stalked forward until he stood by his emperor's shoulder. "He is in the Cells of the Damned, my lord."

Matthew nodded, a cold smile splitting his cruel face. "Excellent. Perhaps some time spent in there shall cure him of his defiant nature." He turned to look at the intimidating mage at his side. "When can we begin, Marckus? I grow weary of this place. I wish to move on."

"Soon, my lord. It will be time, very soon."

Matthew looked over his domain once again, his mouth twisting down into a thin line, his eyes hard with anger and disgust. He hated this place. The dull, lifeless eyes of his subjects, the horrid storms, even the keep in which he lived, which had become his prison in so many ways.

He needed to get out of here, even if it were at the expense of every pitiful organism left living on this dying heap of shit.

His robes swirling behind him in the hot air, he turned swiftly, storming back inside.

Marckus, white eyes gleaming, silently followed.

* * * * * * *


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Slashdlite, you're so cool, because you always leave such nice reviews for my stories! It's true, Jeff's in trouble, and Matt is freaking out, but don't worry; all will resolve itself, eventually. It's just going to be a long, freaky road to get there. Animal Luvr 4 Life, I am evil, it's true, but keep reading to find out poor Jeffy's fate.**

**Thanks to you guys for reviewing! ;)**

**As always, WWE owns all, I own nothing.**

"My liege."

Matthew looked up from his study of a spellbook containing information on dimensional rifts. He did not appear pleased at the interruption.

A soft-spoken young messenger stood in the doorway, bowing low.

Sighing irritably, the emperor said, "Rise, and say your news quickly. I am in no mood for formalities today."

The young man, who Matthew now recognized as a soldier in Lieutenant Regal's unit, stood straight, and met his gaze unflinchingly. This one had been trained exceptionally well, Matthew mused.

"Lieutenant Regal sends his regards, my liege-"

"Did I not say that I am in no humor to deal with formalities today?", Matthew hissed, "Now get to the point. What news do you bring?"

The young soldier did not react outwardly to the emperor's outburst. Continuing in a steady tenor, he said, "I apologize, my lord. Lieutenant Regal wishes to relay the fact that we have not yet tracked the Hunter or the Lion down, but we believe we know where they are. Our trackers have been following a steady trail south. Lieutenant Regal assures you that they will be within our possession within a week's time, perhaps less."

Matthew arched a well-groomed eyebrow. "Regal is sounding a bit overconfident to me. He's forgetting how dangerous prey like this can be when backed into a corner. No, my young friend, the Hunter and the Lion have many games yet to play before they're captured. What Regal should always remember is that he is trespassing in their territory."

"Wise advice, my liege." The young man watched his emperor with dark, stormy eyes.

Matthew tilted his head in contemplation. "What is your name, messenger?"

If the young soldier was at all surprised by the question, he did not show it. "C'odi, son of Dustin, my liege."

Matthew nodded once and smiled, though his eyes remained cold and ever-watchful. He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal.

"Be sure and relay my words to your lieutenant, C'odi, son of Dustin."

"Yes, my liege."

The young messenger bowed, and left the library, his crisp steps echoing off of the stone floor.

Matthew watched him go, wondering if his doppelganger was intact on the other side of the gate. It would be a waste, to leave that one behind. Young, vital, and loyal to the point of stupidity. He would be a perfect replacement for Regal, should things go badly down the line.

Gingerly closing the ancient spellbook, he turned his mind to other, more immediate things.

He could not get Jeffrey out of his head. The young man they had brought from the other earth was an extraordinary creature. He was lovely and delicate, and filled with color and life. He reminded Matthew of some exotic, long-dead bird that would have once thrived in the forests of his world, long ago.

This world no longer had any color, or beauty. Basic survival was a daily struggle for the masses, who moved about the walls of his great fortress like filthy insects.

But Jeffrey carried with him the essence of his own world. Being near him was like feeling a fresh, cooling breeze in the midst of the ever-burning pit-fires.

He and Jeffrey were nothing alike. And yet, there was a strange, inexplicable kinship between them, one that the young monarch had never felt with another living being.

It didn't matter. The moment the gateway was ready, Jeffrey would die. Matthew would wield the knife himself.

"Marckus", he breathed his mage's name softly, dark eyes set upon the rough grain of the wooden tabletop.

"I am here, my liege." Marckus melted from the shadows to stand by Matthew's shoulder.

"How are things proceeding?"

"As well as can be expected, my liege", replied the court mage, "We are readying those soldiers not chasing down the Hunter and the Lion, quietly getting them ready for the crossing."

"And the people? They know nothing?"

"According to my reports, nothing at all has been leaked about the gateway, or any of our recent activities here."

The emperor nodded officiously. "Anything else to report?"

"Some people were whispering together in the marketplace yesterday, speculating about Regal and his men, and their purpose for riding towards the forests in such haste."

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "I trust you picked them up."

"Of course, my liege. They are in the dungeons, with the other malcontents."

"Excellent."

Matthew sighed, and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He was exhausted. He had been up for many hours, poring over spellbooks and going over plans in his mind, again and again.

"Rest, my emperor", came Marckus' soft voice from the shadows, "We shall speak more, later."

Matthew heard his mage leaving the room, this time, taking the more traditional route.

"Marckus, hold."

His quiet, stern voice caused the big man to freeze where he was. He turned back towards the elaborately-carved chair and desk. Matthew was leaning forward on his elbows, staring down at his hands as if he were seeing them for the first time.

"Jeffrey and I share blood", he said quietly, "I can feel it. I can feel a connection with him…"

Realizing what he'd been saying, he stopped suddenly, embarrassed. The young monarch raked his hands back through his black curly hair.

Marckus spoke, his voice hesitant. "My liege, it is only natural that you feel this way. He is your brother's doppelganger-"

Matthew swept the tomes and spellbooks off of the desk, bringing them crashing to the floor. The young monarch snarled, "I know, damn you!" All of the anger seemed to leave his body at once, and he collapsed back into the sturdy wooden chair. His voice fell to a whisper, softly echoing around the bare stone walls of his study. "I feel… protective of him. My instincts are fighting my logic. And it is infuriating me, because I do not understand why."

"My liege-"

Matthew stood, pulling his robes around himself. "No. Enough", he said tiredly.

Matthew met his mage's white-eyed gaze. "I wish to have Jeffrey brought to my quarters."

Marckus' voice was utterly calm. "Is that advisable, my liege?"

Matthew's eyes burned. "Are you questioning me?"

"No." He bowed, never showing a hint of emotion, "I will fetch him myself."

Matthew nodded. He swept out of the room without another word, the fine fabric of his robes rustling on the hard stone floors.

Marckus watched him go, standing in the cold, staid room until his footsteps had faded completely away.

When he was sure he was he was alone, the court mage walked towards the shifting shadows in the corner, needing darkness to complete his task. Moving steadily, never slowing his pace.

He breathed a word of magic.

Silently and swiftly, Marckus walked through the wall of shadows, and into the Cells of the Damned.

* * * * * * *

Jeff lay curled in a corner of the filthy cell, trying to sleep. The quiet, hitching breaths of the ill and wounded sounded in concert with the hushed and desperate conversations of the condemned prisoners.

He sat up, stretching miserably. He would never be able to sleep in this horrible place.

Suddenly, harsh laughter assaulted his ears. Jeff's weary gaze fixed upon the huddled form of Shainen, who was curled in on himself in the shadowy corner of the small cell. The younger man's wild eyes were fixed on Jeff, staring unflinchingly, and without any seeming purpose.

The young Hardy watched him warily, not knowing what he would do.

"You're going to die, my friend", whispered Shainen, a wide grin revealing cracked and yellowed teeth, "Yours is the face of a condemned man." He seemed amused by this revelation. Laughter bubbled forth from his dry, cracked lips, as if it were beyond his control.

Jeff felt anger stir in his gut. Shaking, he stared into the insane face of one of his best friends, finding nothing there that he recognized at all.

"Don't talk to me", he said, turning his face away and closing his eyes.

"But why?", Shainen persisted, giggling softly, "After all, I could be the last friendly face you ever get to see."

"Just fucking leave me alone!", cried Jeff, uncaring of the fact that Evan was sleeping in the corner. The sleeping man stirred slightly, but did not wake.

"No. You will listen. Whether you want to or not", hissed the younger man. Shainen sat up and glared at the Enigma through narrowed eyes that projected hatred, and despair. "I'm a simple man, my friend. All my life, I worked the godforsaken lands around my village in an effort to feed my family. We had nothing, but we were happy enough. But Matthew couldn't have that. That bastard buried my wife, and my children, and made sure I remained alive to suffer each day, knowing they were gone." Shainen turned his head and violently spit, as if he were cursing the emperor. When he resumed speaking, his tone was subdued. "Now, I know very little. And what I have learned, I learned far too late to help my family." He bowed his head. "But what I _do_ know, what I have come to understand all too well, is that there are precious few men who have the ability to look Emperor Matthew in his face, and defy him. He rules through fear, you see. Without the fear of the people, he'd be powerless. Unfortunately, though, most men cower before him like broken stalks in a windstorm."

Jeff stared at Shainen, so broken and full of hate and so young. Condemned to die, and drained of the will to live after the death of his family, Jeff wondered if the younger man would ever see the sky again, or if he would simply rot forever in this dank prison. Even as Jeff listened to him speak, he could see the madness lighting his eyes like the flames of a distant candle. It disturbed him. It saddened him.

"_You_ don't seem like the cowering type", Shainen continued quietly, "But then again, you're an outsider. You've never seen what Emperor Matthew is capable of. It's easy to feign courage, when you don't know what it is you're up against."

Jeff shuddered, listening with growing unease to the younger man's incessant ramblings.

"The Hunter and the Lion never feared him", Shainen breathed, a soft smile coming to his lips, "He laid scourge to the forests, hunted them, killed their loyal followers. Nothing he did ever made them fear him." Shainen smiled, his eyes lighting up. "The Hunter and the Lion shall defeat Emperor Matthew one day, and bring peace to this land." He said this as if it were a mantra.

Jeff sat up straight. "Who are-"

A shadow fell across the cell. There had been no footsteps, no sounds to alert the prisoners to anyone's approach.

"They are no one you need be concerned with, Jeffrey", interrupted Marckus, whose gaze was locked firmly onto Shainen's wild-eyed visage, "They were once filthy, pathetic rebels who hid in gutters and caves. After Lieutenant Regal and his men are finished with them, however, they will simply be dead." The mage smirked, enjoying imparting such news to one of the rebel loyalists.

Shainen rose to his feet. He gave a smirk of his own. "You are wrong. You are a fool. Your ridiculous emperor is a fool! The Hunter and the Lion will triumph, and the-"

Suddenly, Marckus raised his hands and crossed them over his chest. It was all the warning Shainen had. He crumpled to the filthy floor, not moving, or making a sound.

"Shainen?", Jeff asked, his voice small and unsteady.

"Come, Jeffrey, we must go", said Marckus, "Emperor Matthew has summoned you."

Jeff ignored the court mage, and fell to his knees next to Shainen's still form. He wasn't moving. Something wasn't right. Tentatively, he stretched out a hand and prodded his arm. That was when he realized that the younger man was dead.

"Oh my god…", breathed Jeff, eyes wide on the stranger's face.

"Come, Jeffrey, we must go", repeated Marckus calmly, as if he hadn't just killed a man.

The Enigma jumped to his feet. "You fucking killed him!", he cried, eyes wide, panicked breaths coming fast and hard. He began to back away from the bars, his gaze set firmly on Marckus' grim scowl.

Suddenly, Jeff felt a slight movement of air behind him. Before he could turn around, there was a sharp pain in his neck.

The young Hardy felt himself falling to the ground, unable to stop. He heard himself cry out.

Raging against it, he fell into a black and dreamless sleep.

* * * * * * *

A great, resounding knock sounded at Emperor Matthew's door.

Rising from his comfortable place by the fire, he called for whoever it was to enter. As expected, Marckus walked through the ornately-carved doorway, burdened with an unconscious Jeff, who'd been slung unceremoniously over his broad shoulder.

Matthew eyed the pair incredulously.

"I do hope you didn't harm him, Marckus."

The court mage placed the smaller man down on Matthew's plush bed. "No, my liege", he replied, "A simple nerve-pinch brought him down. He should only be unconscious for another 20 minutes, at most."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "A nerve-pinch? That is not your way." He glared at the larger man. "Who did this to him?"

Marckus was unaffected by the emperor's ire. "I took the liberty of hiring an assassin to watch over Jeffrey while he was in the Cells of the Damned. When he became uncooperative after I killed his cellmate, the assassin stepped in and lent his assistance." Matthew's eyes narrowed dangerously. Undeterred by his emperor's obvious anger, Marckus continued his explanation. "Jeffrey was penned in with many of your hated enemies, my liege. There was a distinct possibility they could harm him, and we cannot have that. To speak truthfully, we shall need every drop of precious blood that his body holds when it comes time to open the gateway."

Matthew glared furiously. "So you hired a damned filthy _assassin_ to protect him?!"

Marckus nodded. "I informed him that he would not receive his payment unless he completed the job to my satisfaction. Therefore, it would be in his best interests to keep Jeffrey safe until we released him from the cell."

Suddenly, their discussion was interrupted by the door to Matthew's chamber bursting open forcefully. The moment the wood began to splinter, Marckus began to cast a spell of protection around the emperor and their senseless prisoner.

"Easy, boys", came an arrogant voice that was dripping with swagger and overconfidence, "I'm unarmed. I promise."

Without invitation, a handsome, well-built young man in his early twenties strode through the door, wearing the weapons and leather armor that were typical of assassins. He was grinning widely as he took in the furious stare of Emperor Matthew, and the ever-present glower of Marckus.

The assassin eyed Jeff for a moment, before returning his full attention to the young monarch and his mage.

"Good day, Emperor", he said cheerily, "My name is Evan. I'm here for my payment."

* * * * * * *

**So many developments, so little time. Of all the stories I've written, this is my favorite, because it's the weirdest, and most epic. I have this whole sweeping idea in my head for where I want the plot to go, and no shortage of plans. I suppose, in the end, this story is just like **_**me**_**: it only makes sense on an alternate earth.**

**Review! Review! Review! ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm really bummed that I haven't had more time to update this regularly. I'm dying to get this one going, though, so I'm going to have to find time in the future. Thanks to all who took the time to review. You're all super cool!**

**Slashdlite, thanks, and glad you're liking this convoluted little tale so far; we'll have to see where it leads. Seraphalexiel, thank you; I actually threw Evan into that role **_**because**_** he's so innocent, and I thought it would be fun to write him as a cocky asshole. Oh, and your guess is dead-on right. Animal Luvr 4 Life and Libby-Lee, glad you guys are still into it; thanks for sticking with me! **

**As always, WWE owns all, I own nothing.**

Matt walked aimlessly, his head bowed against the biting winds. He'd left the hotel hours ago, in an attempt to find the brutal sanctuary of complete anonymity.

He passed black alleyways and burnt-out warehouses, not caring where he ended up. He hugged himself tightly as a cruel gust of wind sliced through his meager coat and froze him to the bone. Pushing unruly black curls out of his eyes, Matt couldn't help but wonder if Jeff was being forced to endure weather like this, or if he was in a warm place. He'd always hated the cold.

The older Hardy felt a tear run down his cheek, and rapidly swatted it away. Glaring at his temporary weakness, he quickened his pace.

Thoughts raced through his head, all of them about Jeff, and all of them unpleasant. He thought of the last time he'd seen him before his disappearance, wondered if there was anything he could've done differently. But one fact remained, cold and clear, and as excruciating as a fresh knife wound.

If he hadn't been out drinking, he would've been there to protect his brother.

He'd never forgive himself if Jeff died.

The thought of him dead, all that life and color locked away forever into a box six feet under the ground, nearly made Matt throw up right there in the street. Jeff was not going to die. He couldn't.

Another tear escaped his eye, running slowly down his reddened cheek. This time, Matt didn't wipe it away. He stared numbly ahead, shadows creeping slowly at the edges of his vision.

A gust of wind tore through him, but he didn't flinch, didn't blink. He only stared miserably at the ground, watching his feet shuffle slowly along on this dark and unfamiliar road.

Silence surrounded him, an eerie pocket of stillness in the teeming city's heart. Like the eye of a storm.

"Just… oh fuck, Jeff, please, come home to me", Matt whispered into the bitter night air, his voice shaking, "I miss you, baby brother."

The older Hardy ambled through the dark, wind-swept city, followed closely by ever-growing despair.

* * * * * * *

Consciousness returned to Jeff suddenly, and painfully. A sharp twinge immediately flared up in the junction between his shoulder and neck, and he felt all of his muscles stiffen simultaneously. Where was he? What had happened to him?

Anger twisted his guts as he recalled Marckus dragging him out of the cells. The Enigma silently bristled. He was getting tired of being manhandled like an overlarge toy.

Voices met his weary ears, familiar and yet, at the same time, eerily foreign to him. His bloodshot green eyes slid open slowly.

Across the room, the emperor was glaring furiously at Evan Bourne's doppelganger. The young man appeared unaffected by Matthew's and Marckus' heated gazes. He leaned easily against the stone wall, a crooked smile upon his features.

"I have destroyed greater men than you for showing me disrespect", Emperor Matthew hissed contemptuously, "Do not think that your skills, however great, shall save you, should my patience wear too thin."

Evan threw back his head and laughed. "My lord, I do not doubt the extent of your power. You have, after all, killed several friends of mine." Evan's hand moved to rest lightly on the pommel of his sword. "But there is no need for that today, I assure you." He turned his smiling gaze towards Marckus' stony visage. The smile did not reach his eyes. "I am simply here to collect on a debt owed me by the mage. I will happily leave when it is paid in full."

"You will wait", Marckus snarled, his low, rough voice echoing through the stone chamber.

The imposing mage walked away, leaving the assassin standing there as if he were a servant, or a foolish peasant who had wandered into the wrong chamber. Evan's eyes narrowed as he watched Marckus move towards Matthew's massive bed. The assassin was growing angrier by the second. Filthy mages and their games. He would ensure that the magician did not dismiss him so easily in the future. He would see to it that each time Marckus saw Evan approach, he would tremble in fear, and remember.

Evan smirked.

Jeff was lying amongst animal skins and silken pillows, his head lolling back and forth, his eyes half-open and glazed over.

Marckus bent over and proceeded to examine him, forcibly holding his chin so he could look into his eyes. Jeff groaned in pain and tried to free himself. The mage only tightened his grip.

Matthew joined Marckus at Jeff's bedside, staring down at the younger man impassively. Jeff stared up at his captors through glassy eyes, blinking dully in a vain effort to clear his head.

"Is he unharmed?", Matthew asked, his tone droll and without emotion. The young emperor's gaze remained steadfastly fixed upon Jeff's pale face, watching him closely.

Marckus, still holding tightly to Jeff's chin, looked up. "He is unharmed, my liege."

Nodding curtly, the emperor said, "Then leave us."

Evan stepped boldly forward, unintimidated by Matthew or his deadly mage. "And my promised payment, my liege?"

The emperor shot a glare of pure, venomous rage at the young assassin. "Get out of here", Matthew said softly, his voice shaking with anger.

Evan straightened. "I was promised a thousand gold pieces!"

Matthew glared. "_I_ promised you nothing. Your payment is leaving this room with your life. Were I you, I'd take it."

The livid assassin stood, unable to believe he'd been duped by the emperor and his pet mage. The Hunter had warned him about his nefarious dealings and criminal undertakings, telling him they would bring him only suffering in the end. Perhaps he had been right.

Shaking his head, Evan turned and made his way out of the lushly-appointed chamber, feeling the cold, white gaze of Marckus on his back, watching. He heard a pained groan from Jeffrey punctuate the sound of the heavy wooden door closing in its frame behind him.

Evan turned and faced Matthew's chamber for a moment, before walking briskly away. He reflected that empathy rarely touched him. Today, however, he found himself feeling very sorry for the man trapped in there with that bastard of an emperor and his god-forsaken mage.

* * * * * * *

Matthew slowly paced around his well-appointed bed. Moving in long and unhurried strides, he calmly appraised his prisoner. The emperor's dark gaze was firmly set upon the young Hardy, who was crouching amongst the finely-woven sheets, his knees drawn protectively to his chest. Jeffrey watched Matthew as well, fear and uncertainty playing across his features.

The older man spoke first, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Tell me what your home is like."

Jeffrey stared back at him, wondering why he would ask such a question, or even care to know its answer. It seemed like mundane small talk, something you would ask a stranger you were sitting next to on a long flight. And yet, Jeff realized, Matthew seemed strangely desperate to hear his reply.

Jeff glared. "Why don't you get those assholes who broke into my house and kidnapped me to tell you about my home? They were there. They seemed to enjoy themselves a whole hell of a lot while they were beating me up and ripping my place apart."

The embers of a dying fire burned in the great fireplace, casting strange shadows on Matthew's grim, pale face. The young monarch was staring at Jeff, his expression an emotionless mask.

"What do you want from me?", Jeff said, his voice shaking with anger, "Why did you tell me I was going to die?"

Matthew said nothing, though the young Hardy could have sworn he saw regret flash across the emperor's stern features for an instant.

"God damn you!", Jeff raged, "I have a right to know-"

"Wrong", interrupted Matthew coldly, "You are my prisoner. You have _no _rights."

Jeff stared at him, eyes wide, fear clutching icy tendrils around his heart. "Why are you doing this to me?", he whispered.

Matthew ignored the question. "Tell me about your home."

"Why do you care what my home is like?", Jeff asked, his voice sounding shaky and defeated.

"It is none of your concern _why_", replied the emperor, his tone so abruptly gentle that Jeff couldn't help but look up at him, "Just tell me."

Jeff watched him for a long moment, before his gaze darkened. He shook his head. "No." He looked away.

Matthew glared angrily. "Do not force me to utilize Marckus, Jeffrey. He has… methods of extracting information. They are not pleasant."

Jeff glared. "Well, you're going to kill me. Why not torture me first?"

Inside, the young Hardy was freaking the fuck out. Why had he said that?! Matthew was just making conversation, asking for a description of his home. Right? He shouldn't antagonize the psychopathic tyrant who was currently holding his life in his hands. And yet, he found that he had no desire to bend to Matthew's will, either.

Something would have to give here.

Jeff's dark thoughts were interrupted, however, when he was struck across the face, hard. He cupped his reddening cheek, watching the livid emperor glare down at him.

"I shall give you one more chance to tell me what I want to know", hissed Matthew, "Resist, and Marckus shall have you." He leaned over Jeff, the ever-present shadows causing the crooks and fine lines of his face to fall into sharp relief. "He would thank me for the opportunity to break you", he said, a small smile perched upon his lips.

Jeff leaned back, away from his brother's evil doppelganger. He closed his eyes tightly, and looked away.

Feeling weak and hating himself for giving in, he whispered, "What exactly do you want to know?"

Matthew looked down at Jeffrey, who was crouched in on himself and refusing to meet the emperor's eyes. He smiled. Tonight would be a very interesting night indeed.

* * * * * * *

**Sorry it's taken me so damn long to update this, but life has been crazy lately. You guys know how it gets. I'm gonna try to make this story, and Papercuts, my two priorities for updates, but we'll have to see how it goes. (Onions has been sending me stuff for the Peeper story too, so if anyone is reading that one, there should be something coming for that one soon.)**

**Anyway, all that aside, there's a lot of crap brewing here! Where will Evan go? What will Jeff tell Matthew? How will Matt handle his brother's disappearance, and will the Undertaker have anything to do with helping him cope? And just who the hell are the Hunter and the Lion?!!!!**

**Keep reading to find out the answers to these burning questions, and REVIEW!!!!! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Well, folks, here we are again, and it has been FOREVER since I last updated. Uh, sorry about that. I just haven't had the time. Thing is, I've really wanted to get moving on all of my unfinished stories lately, and I've just been stuck. Oh well, I guess it happens. Anyway, thanks to all of you who reviewed this time around!!**

**Slashdlite, as always, I love your reviews; hope you haven't given up on me; I know it's been a thousand years since I updated! Animal Luvr 4 Life, stick around to see it get even creepier!! :) Seraphalexiel, were you talking about "The Man in the Iron Mask" in your review? Sounds familiar… Anyway, there's gonna be some Hunter and Lion action comin' up, so stick around! Charmed2007, sunligh584, Captain, and Isi, thank you all for checking the story out, and I promise I'll try to be quicker with reviews from now on! I have a definite storyline in mind, so that might help… Takers Dark Lover, Matthew is certainly an **_**enigma**_** (HA! No pun intended!); one never knows what he's thinking, so stick around to find out…**

**The McMahons own everything. I own this computer, the clothes on my back, and a few comics. That's it.**

**Enjoy!**

Evan moved across the plains of rock, picking his way with practiced grace through the hazardous natural formations that stood in his way. Behind him, loomed the shadow of Emperor Matthew's behemoth capital city, overflowing with miserable peasants and the black smoke from pit fires. In front, stretched one of this world's last remaining forests, trees pushing towards the horizon for as far as the eye could see.

Evan stopped for a moment, and smirked.

Matthew had long wanted to raze this forest to the ground.

The Hunter and the Lion hid within its confines, using the thick shadows and entangled underbrush to conceal themselves and their followers from any prying eyes. Soldiers of the emperor were on constant patrol in the forests, barreling through the foliage with their armor and swords. Their numbers far exceeded the rebels' lot. And yet, their prey somehow always managed to elude them.

Evan grinned. He knew these woods like the back of his hand.

He knew exactly where to find the Hunter and the Lion.

Cautiously, he made his way into the darkening trees, being sure to avoid any contact with Matthew's soldiers. The young thief kept his gaze on the path ahead, purposely ignoring the prickling on the back of his neck that told him he was being watched.

* * * * * * *

"Tell me about yourself, Jeffrey. Tell me about your home." Matthew watched his prisoner with a careful, wide-eyed fascination, like an entomologist who had just discovered an exotic new species of insect. "I want to know everything."

Jeff did not look at him, nor did he react to the quietly-spoken order. He stared, as if mesmerized, at a spot on the lushly-woven rug, concentrating on the riot of color and detail.

"Jeffrey", Matthew urged, his tone soft and sharp as a blade.

The young Hardy looked up.

"Why do you want to know about my home?", he asked, "Why do you care?"

Matthew glared. "I keep my own council, Jeffrey. And, I might remind you, it is not your place to ask questions. Only to answer them."

Jeff bristled, feeling an immediate and overwhelming instinct to defy Matthew's word. The arrogant monarch infuriated him. As Jeff looked into Matthew's face, however, he quickly found any notion of defiance draining away. He felt weak and foolish beneath the emperor's cold scrutiny. He quickly averted his eyes, moving his gaze back to the colorful rug.

Jeff sighed deeply. He was angry, and he felt violated. He didn't want to tell this bastard anything.

He was quickly realizing, however, that he had little choice in the matter.

"I-", he paused, wanting to start again, knowing that he had to be careful of what he revealed to this man. "I grew up on a tobacco farm. We still live on the land-"

"We?", interrupted Matthew, his sharp eyes watching every movement Jeff made.

The younger man's head shot up. "M- Matt. He and I live there now."

Matthew smiled, an unnerving grin that did not reach his eyes. "And Matt would be, allow me to hazard a guess, your brother?"

Jeff found that his gaze had been captured by Matt's frigid stare. He could do nothing but swallow, and nod weakly in reply.

"Fascinating", mused Matthew, tapping his finger on his bottom lip thoughtfully. The emperor cocked his head slightly, a small, strange smile perched upon his lips. "Tell me about him."

Jeff's eyes flashed angrily. "Leave him out of this."

Matthew leaned forward slightly, a gesture that was intimidating for all its subtlety. "Do not force me to call on Marckus."

Jeff appeared conflicted for several moments, before reluctantly giving in. "He- he's a wrestler, like me. He-"

"A wrestler?", interrupted Matthew, confusion written plainly on his features, "So you are soldiers of some sort, then?"

Jeff shook his colorful head. "No, we wrestle in arenas, in front of crowds, to entertain people."

"_Entertain?_", he spoke the word slowly, as if it were foreign to him. Perhaps, Jeff mused, it was.

"So, you and your brother have no useful occupation in society", Matthew murmured, as if speaking the concept aloud to himself in order to better understand it, "You are simply leeches, like the clowns who beg for money in the marketplace." He leaned in, a happy smile upon his face. "I have the clowns executed, you know."

Jeff glared. "We entertain people so they can forget about their everyday troubles. Your clowns do the same. _That's_ our occupation in society."

"Hmmm, perhaps. But in the end, jumping about like an idiot on the street corner won't build you a home, nor will it protect you from the winter chill."

Jeff chose not to respond to this. His eyes fell back to the floor, and the rug.

A few moments passed, where Matthew appeared to be thinking. Jeff could've let the crackling fire and the close warmth of the room lull him to sleep, had he not been so uncomfortable in Matthew's presence. Suddenly, the emperor spoke, making the young Hardy twitch nervously.

"Your brother", he said lowly, "Tell me more about him."

"What do you want to know?", asked Jeff, his tone stretched thin with exhaustion.

"Everything", replied Matthew evenly, "For instance, he looks like me, yes?"

Jeff's eyes narrowed. Why the sudden interest in Matt? "Yeah, he does. So what?"

Matthew smiled, ignoring Jeff's query. "What is he like? Is he a leader? Does he take charge of situations?"

Jeff spent the better part of the next hour telling Matthew all about his brother. He tried to withhold as much information as possible, but he found that the emperor's questions were extremely incisive, and difficult to dodge. By the time he'd finished interrogating Jeff, the emperor had all the information he'd ever need about his doppelganger.

Next, Matthew wanted to hear about Jeff's home itself. He wanted details on local culture, food, and geography. The emperor was thoroughly intrigued by Jeff's description of his little corner of North Carolina.

"Your home sounds like a magnificent place, Jeffrey", Matthew mused, "I see why you were reluctant to leave it."

Jeff scowled. "I'm always reluctant to be kidnapped, Matthew. I'm always reluctant to be threatened with death."

The young monarch looked away, as if unable to face the truth of those words. Jeff stared at him, watching his captor's peculiar reaction. The young Hardy felt cold dread seep into his gut as he realized that the black-hearted emperor had many of the same mannerisms as his own brother. They both fidgeted incessantly when things were bothering them. They were both heavy brooders.

Jeff hated looking at this imperfect copy of Matt. It was his eyes. Matthew's eyes were cruel, and they read no remorse for that cruelty. It was terrible to see eyes like that in his brother's face. Matt's eyes, his face, were always so warm. He was always laughing.

Jeff couldn't help but wonder if Matt was laughing now.

"Take him away", Matthew hissed coldly. He turned his back to the younger man, walking into the shadows of the fire-lit room.

Jeff felt a painfully strong hand grip his arm, suddenly. Marckus. The great mage began to forcefully guide him from the emperor's bedchamber, pulling him steadily along.

Jeff's stormy gaze never left Matthew's troubled face as he was dragged away.

As his prisoner left, Matthew stared down at an old scar on his palm, nearly invisible in the firelight. His breath quickened as memories returned to him.

"I'm sorry, Jeffrey", he whispered to no one, "Truly I am…"

* * * * * * *

Matt stumbled into the hotel lobby, as drunk as he'd ever been in his life. Tonight had been especially hard for him, and he'd needed something to dull the pain.

He was beginning to think that Jeff may never come back. That thought was slowly tearing him to shreds.

He stumbled, barely catching himself on the polished front desk. The clerk watched him with wary eyes as he passed.

Tears stung his bleary vision as he slowly made his way across the lobby and towards the row of elevators. He kept his head down, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. He just needed a bed, and the peace and darkness, and solitude that came with it.

He stopped, and pressed the button. He closed his eyes, waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive. The heavy silence of early-morning settled over him.

"Where are you, baby brother?", he thought, pain clenching his guts, "Are you even alive?"

He didn't think that Jeff was dead. He couldn't face that. Not yet. Not until he knew for sure.

Suddenly, he felt a large hand fall upon his shoulder. Matt spun around, wide-eyed and startled.

"Sorry", said the Undertaker, "didn't mean to scare you."

Matt stared, trying to calm himself down. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

The Deadman smirked. "Just like you, kid. I was out at the bar, drinking." The large man cocked his head, studying Matt more closely. "You alright, Matt?"

The older Hardy looked away. "I'm fine. Just tired."

"Bullshit", the Undertaker growled, "Don't lie to me."

"What do you want to hear?", said Matt, his voice unsteady, "Of course I'm not okay! Fuck-"

He trailed off, turning away. He couldn't stand to see Mark's doleful, forlorn expression.

The elevator door slid open then, punctuated by a gentle ring.

"Come on kid", said the Deadman, his voice gentle, "Let's go."

Matt hesitated for a moment, before finally following Mark onto the elevator. His shoulders drooped with exhaustion.

He knew he probably wouldn't sleep tonight. The nights were always the hardest.

* * * * * * *

"Stop. I think you've gone far enough."

Evan froze in his tracks, making sure to keep his hands out where his pursuer could see them. He smirked. "I was wondering when you were going to come out into the open."

He heard the rustling of soft footsteps behind him. "Well, I had to be sure Regal and his goons weren't around, yes?"

Evan visibly relaxed at the sound of the voice, turning around. "You shouldn't have come yourself. It's too dangerous. This forest is crawling with Matthew's soldiers."

Soft laughter. "Fools, all of them. I could dodge them in my sleep. It's Matthew and his evil mage that concern me."

Evan looked grim as he studied the Lion's face. "I've just come from the fortress. There's something going on there. I think you and the Hunter-"

The Lion raised his hand for silence, and Evan immediately obeyed. The older man's sharp blue eyes roamed the forest, watching. Waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he motioned for Evan to follow him out of the clearing.

"We shall return to camp, Evan", he said, his tone light, his eyes ever-watchful, "You may tell us your sordid tales then."

Evan nodded, and moved into step with the rebel leader.

They made no sounds. They left no traceable marks. They walked into the forest, and immediately faded away.

* * * * * * *

**What's going to happen to Jeffro? What was that scar on Emperor Matthew's palm? Is Matt going to become an alcoholic? What's up with the Hunter and the Lion? Will Batman make a cameo in this story, as has been rumored on many of the Internet Wrestling Blogs?! The answers to these questions, and many more, in our next thrilling episode!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Well, readers, it appears that we have come to Episode 9 of Doppelganger, my epic tale of ridiculousness. :) I'm enjoying writing this thing, though I admit, it's starting to get a bit out of hand. Doppelgangers are popping up left and right, and for no apparent reason. I suppose you could say I'm going doppelganger-crazy. Therefore, for your sanity, as well as my own, I will be including a full list of earth to doppelganger counterparts at the bottom of this chapter, just to alleviate any confusion anyone might be experiencing thus far.**

**Now to answer some kind reviews I've received. Slashdlite, once again, it's awesome to see you're sticking around. The Undertaker will most likely have some part to play yet; he's just sticking to the shadows right now, which, if you think about it, is kind of his comfort zone. :) The emperor doesn't have any specific power; Jeff's just scared, and tired, and that makes him easier to control. Poor guy! Animal Luvr 4 Life, sorry it took me so long to update. It's on my new year's resolutions not to leave readers hanging for months between chapters! :P Seraphalexiel, it is true, it is true. Matthew is the consummate dick. :) And if **_**you**_** have to see a psychiatrist, I'll be in line right behind you. I think I might need some meds for this affliction. ;) **

**Thanks to all who reviewed! It is much, much appreciated.**

**As always, WWE owns everything, I own not a thing (except the doppelgangers, I suppose).**

Matt opened his eyes. His gaze roamed his surroundings, panic seeping in as he quickly began to realize that he had no idea where he was. A luxurious, finely-appointed chamber, replete with tapestries, stonework, and a roaring fireplace met his gawking stare. It looked like a room in a castle. How the hell had he ended up here?

He looked down, seeing he was lying in a bed that had enough pillows and accoutrements to suit a king. His brow furrowed in confusion as he took in the finery. None of this made any sense.

He placed a hand onto the mattress, bracing himself to swing his legs over the side.

A shift occurred then, subtle and quick.

Matt found himself relaxing back into the overgrown bed. He was stunned. He'd watched himself do that, though he'd had no control over his own actions. His panic began to increase by the second as he realized that, no matter the efforts he put forth, his muscles simply would not respond to the simple commands he'd try to send them.

He tried, multiple times, to shift, to move, to scream. His body, however, was no longer his to control. All he could do was watch from behind his own eyes, as someone else began to manipulate his limbs like a life-size marionette.

He felt himself push up, and sit on the side of the bed. He felt his fists clench painfully, as an unexplained feeling of rage washed through him. He could feel his breath quickening. Matt watched as, without warning, he raised his own arm and violently swept a candle, a heavy book, and a small glass portrait off of the bedside table and onto the floor.

A guttural cry, furious and heartrending at the same time, ripped from his throat, bouncing off of the high stone ceiling. Matt dropped to his knees then, his cheeks wet and his vision blurred with tears.

He felt himself pull a knife from his belt. He brought it into his teary vision to scrutinize, studying its sharpness and its balance. Apparently satisfied, he slowly, slowly, began to cut into the thick flesh of the palm of his hand.

"Jeffrey, I'm sorry. It is my fault that you're dead", he said in a low, tortured voice, one that sounded eerily like Matt's own, though without his warm, Southern drawl. He was staring at the blood as it began to flow freely from the self-inflicted wound, his eyes glassy and full of regret. When he began to speak again, his voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. "It was my doing. When you were born, I told the midwife to get rid of you. I didn't want you interfering when it was time for me to rise to power." He choked. "It has been my one regret. You should be beside me, my brother, upon a gilded throne, as your birthright decrees."

A deep sigh. Another, deeper cut, this time into the flesh of his wrist.

"I wish there were something I could do… to bring you back…"

Matt felt his eyes closing. Blood ran in rivulets onto the beautiful, gilded tapestries.

He heard a great rushing of air from behind him suddenly, a great whooshing sound, as if something were stealing all of the oxygen from the room. He tried to open his eyes, wanting to desperately to see, but found this simple task to be a disturbingly unattainable feat. He would have growled in frustration, had he been in control of his own vocal chords.

"My lord! My lord! You must not fall asleep! My lord…." A rough voice, familiar and yet, not.

Matt's eyes were open. But all he could see was darkness.

* * * * * * *

Matt shot up like a bullet, suddenly very, very awake. He stared into the shadows of the dark hotel room, unblinking, his eyes fierce. As if to reassure himself, he clenched and unclenched his fists, proving that he did, indeed, have full control of his muscles back.

He turned on the light after several long moments. He stared at his hand, and his wrist. They were completely clean of any wounds. He shook his head, disturbed by the images in the dream.

Getting up from the bed, he walked over to the mirror. He grabbed one of the glasses by the sink, filled it to the brim with water, and emptied the entire thing in one long swallow. When he finished, he slammed it down and stared into the large mirror, leaning on the sink.

What had that dream been about? Castles and people committing suicide, and "Jeffrey" having a birthright to some throne?

And he was dreaming that he had killed his brother now. Was his subconscious trying to tell him something?

Matt stared at his reflection. He rubbed his hand over his face, horrified at the huge, gray circles beneath his eyes and the pallid appearance of his skin.

He was looking as badly as he felt, and the fact that he was drinking himself into a stupor every single night wasn't helping matters.

He snarled, picking up the glass and throwing it as hard as he could into the sink. It shattered with force into a million pieces.

Matt spun away from the mirror, collapsing onto the edge of the bed. He glared at the shadows, making patterns high on the wall. Why was he worrying about himself at all? It was selfish. Jeff could be dying out there, right now.

Matt pulled at his hair, feeling tears wet his cheeks. He needed to know where his brother was. He needed to know if he was alright. _Any_ certainty, good or bad, would be enough to end the nightmares, and the need to drink. He let his head fall into his hands. They just had to fucking find him.

Because this limbo was worse than any hell.

He wiped his tears, tired of the ever-present knot in the pit of his stomach.

He took a deep, soothing breath. There was nothing he could he do, except wait, and pray for his brother's safe return.

Matt knew everyone around him was losing faith that Jeff was still alive. All he could do was stand firm in his belief that Jeff would be okay.

He owed his brother that much.

* * * * * * *

Evan followed the Lion closely, using all of his skills as a thief and an assassin to keep silent. They had been walking for quite a long time now, and he had lost track of where they were some ways back.

Evan scowled. If the rebels were being forced to hide this far afield, something was definitely wrong.

The Lion stopped suddenly, motioning for Evan to do the same. The blond man looked straight up, into one particular tree. He made an obscene gesture, smirking as he did so.

A short man suddenly peeked out of the highest branches of the giant tree, his face painted with slashes, as if for battle. As he quickly and agilely scaled the trunk down towards them, Evan saw that he was well-built, and dressed in a thin layer of cured animal skins, either for camouflage or warmth. Two bone knives adorned his slender hips, and a bow and quiver of arrows hung at his back. The diminutive man made no sound when he touched the ground.

He nodded his head towards the Lion, an informal acknowledgement of the other's authority.

When he turned his glance to Evan, however, his demeanor changed immediately. Obviously distrusting of the stranger, he appeared wild and fierce, his hands twitching towards the deadly-looking blades on his hips.

The young assassin didn't like his accusing stare. He didn't like his cold eyes.

"You two haven't met", whispered the Lion, keeping his voice soft on the off-chance there were soldiers stalking them, "Thought I'd make the introductions. This is R'ei. We were lucky to get him to join up with us. He's damn good with those blades of his."

Evan stared at the painted man unflinchingly, his eyes never leaving the other's face. "Is he?", he said brashly, a crooked smirk upon his face, "I wonder if he's as good as me?" The young assassin visibly loosened his blade in its sheath, making it more accessible should he need to pull it quickly. R'ei glared, and took a step forward, never one to back down from a challenge.

"Forgive me, Lion", said the shorter man, never taking his eyes from Evan's face, "but are you sure you wish to allow this one passage? I'd be glad to dispose of him for you-"

Evan made to lunge forward. "Oh, I'd like to see _that_, asshole-"

The Lion rolled his eyes and stepped between the two. "Alright, boys, put your balls back into your pants. This is not the time or the place. Regal and his troops are still out there, remember?"

R'ei straightened, taking a few steps away from Evan, in order to calm himself. "I apologize, Lion."

The Lion nodded. "Has anyone come this way that I should know about?"

R'ei shook his head. "No one."

"Good, then we're clear to head into the camp. Soon as we get there, I'll send someone to relieve you."

The wild man bowed, then began the long and arduous climb up the tree again.

When R'ei had reached his position, he sat on the uncomfortable limb and watched the Lion walk away with Evan, the stranger. He did not like him, he mused, his eyes narrowing in anger.

He stroked his bone knives lovingly, watching the stranger disappear into the mist and shadows of the forest. He would avoid that one. He must remember why he was here. He must not lose focus.

* * * * * * *

The rebels had been on the move for the past two weeks.

They were a well-organized band of thieves, assassins, farmers, villagers, and anyone else who hated the emperor enough to fight back. Despite their differences, and the fact that many of them would be considered common criminals under other circumstances, they were an extremely close-knit group, and very protective of one another.

So, when Regal's men invaded the Great Forest, with the sole intention of destroying their way of life, and killing their beloved leaders, the decision was made to run. They were vastly outnumbered. It was the only way.

The Hunter and the Lion had been hopeful, at first. After all, they had been avoiding Matthew's men for years. They had made it clear that the forest was their territory, and that he had no province here.

But Emperor Matthew, of course, could not have this.

Over the past two weeks, it had become clear to the rebel leaders that this time would be different. Some of their men had been engaged in brief battles on two occasions, before they had been able to cut and run. They had lost several treasured comrades to Regal's barbarism. And, they continued to be driven further and further into the forest, away from their familiar territory.

The Hunter constantly brooded, thinking dark thoughts, pacing, worrying. The Lion kept a cheery face, joking with his men, though he was no happier than his compatriot.

To some, it appeared that the infallible had been defeated. There were a few dark mutterings around the camp.

In the midst of all this turmoil, a man walked who was seemingly unaffected by any of it. He cut through the harried rebels like a ghost, his blonde head bowed as if in concentration, or prayer.

"Woah, Jeffrey, watch out!", came a laughing voice from directly in front of him.

The man looked up from his musings, tangled golden tresses falling into his eyes as he did so. "Sorry, Henri", he said softly.

The elderly thief smiled up at the younger man, reaching forward to pull his mussed hair out of his face. "I swear, child, you're always walking 'round here, with your head stuck firmly up in those clouds. What the hell you always thinkin' about?"

Jeffrey shrugged, and looked away.

Henri narrowed his deep-set eyes. "You upset about our current situation? About your father having to deal with this mess?"

Jeffrey just scowled.

"Well, boy, you're not telling me much", Henri laughed, "But I can tell I ain't hit it on the head. Whatever it is, if you ever wanna talk about it, you know I'm here. Now go on, I'm sure your father's waiting for ya."

Jeffrey said goodbye, and continued his journey towards the far corner of the camp. A few people waved to him, friendly hellos, but no one stopped to talk. He had realized a long time ago that he made these people uncomfortable, and he couldn't really blame them.

After all, he was the brother of the emperor that they were so vehemently trying to kill. Gods above, he made _himself_ uncomfortable. Knowing the things that Matthew had done…

Suddenly, Jeffrey felt a violent push to his shoulder, knocking him to ground. He landed hard on his side, crying out in pain. He started to push himself up, only to feel a heavy boot on his chest, pushing him down onto his back. The boot moved up to his throat, cutting off his air. His eyes rolled up to see his attacker. Santino. He should have fucking known.

"What's wrong, Jeffrey?", said Santino, a heavy, clipped accent lacing his cruel voice, "Don't you know that you deserve this? That is black blood running through your veins, my friend."

He stepped down harder, and Jeffrey began to choke. He began to writhe under his tormenter's boot, grabbing desperately onto his leg, trying to push him off. Distantly, he could hear a crowd forming around them, though, he realized bitterly, no one was moving to help him. He was losing air, and strength, and all was going black-

And then, as if someone had heard his desperate, silent pleas, he could suddenly breathe again. He lay there, choking, coughing, crossing his arms over his head and his injured throat protectively, as if he were afraid Santino might change his mind and return at any second.

And then, he heard the voice that made him realize everything was going to be alright.

"Jeffrey", came the gentle, rough-edged voice of the Hunter, "I need to take a look at your throat, son. Let me see."

Jeffrey trusted his foster father implicitly. He pulled his arms away, glancing to the side as he did so. Santino lay unconscious on the ground several feet away. The crowd had dispersed.

The Hunter shook his head as he examined Jeffrey's throat. "This is going to be a terrible bruise, but you'll live. You'll have some war wounds to show off to the others, eh?"

Jeffrey bowed his head. "Considering the circumstances, father, I think most of them wish they'd had a hand in it. I am, after all, Matthew's brother."

The Hunter scowled furiously. "It doesn't matter! You are nothing like that monster!"

Jeffrey couldn't meet his father's gaze. He felt like an incredible burden on the man who had cared for him since he was a child.

The Hunter gently took Jeffrey's chin in hand, and pulled his head up so that their gazes met.

"I know your mind, my son", he said, a sad smile on his face, "I always have. You do not wish to be an extra load on my back, when I already have so much to worry about." He stroked Jeffrey's smooth cheek once with a dirty, calloused thumb. "But what you do not understand, Jeffrey, is that you do what no one else has been able to do these long and tiresome years. You bring me simple joy. And in the dark days ahead, I shall need that." He sighed wearily, releasing Jeffrey. "We all shall."

The younger man smiled, in his own, quiet way. "Thank you, father."

The Hunter nodded.

Suddenly, a herald ran into the clearing, breathing heavily. "Hunter", he panted, "The Lion has returned with the assassin, Evan. Apparently, with news directly from Matthew's keep."

The Hunter nodded, indicating he would be there shortly. When the herald had left, he looked at Jeffrey.

"Do you want to listen in?", he asked.

Jeffrey didn't hesitate. "Absolutely."

The Hunter grinned proudly. "Good boy. Let's go."

They walked off, stepping over Santino's unconscious body as they did so. Though they chatted easily on the way to the Hunter's tent, a feeling of dread was quickly winding its way around Jeffrey's gut.

What could his brother be up to now?

* * * * * * *

Jeff hated this place.

He was sore, and exhausted, and starving. Didn't these fucking assholes know that they had to feed people in order to keep them alive? He guessed it wasn't a priority for them, since he'd be dead soon enough.

He kept watching the door, waiting for someone to come and get him. He had no concept of time down here, but it seemed as if it had been days since they'd left him here, with the condemned and the dying. Days, of staring, and waiting. It was the not knowing when it was coming that was the worst fucking part. Though, had he known the exact hour and minute of his death, he wasn't sure he'd be any happier. God, he didn't want to die. The thought terrified him.

He knew he didn't deserve any of this, and that made him want to lash out even more. Each time he saw a guard, he wanted to break, kill, maim. But he couldn't. The time had passed for all that.

There was nothing left to do but lay here, and stare at the filthy wall, and watch the rats crawl past, and listen to the ridiculous, hushed conversations going on around him.

"The Hunter and the Lion are near. They shall come for us."

"Yes, they will not leave us here to die."

"When last I saw the Lion, he said I was brave and steadfast. He shall not leave a good man to rot."

Jeff wanted to scream, if only to drown out the voices for one moment. These men were all going to die, just like him. They were just too foolish to see it yet.

The door suddenly opened at the far end of the hallway, rust causing it to squeal jarringly on its ancient metal hinges. Jeff watched with wide eyes as Marckus stepped through, flanked on either side by two of the soldiers who had first attacked him in his studio and brought him to this god-forsaken world. They were covered in intimidating black armor, almost insect-like in appearance, their faces concealed with black cloths.

"Gods have mercy", someone whispered quietly, "What's the Black Guard doin' here?!"

Jeff rose and scrambled towards the back corner of the small enclosure, sitting in the shadows, knees drawn tightly up to his chest. He began to hyperventilate as the frightening entourage stopped in front of his cell.

Marckus pointed at him, dead white eyes devoid of any emotion. "Seize him."

Jeff shook his head in mute protest, watching as the two soldiers opened the door and stalked towards him, weapons drawn. He could do nothing as he was roughly grabbed by one of the black-clad warriors and dragged towards the door. He was brought before Marckus, each arm held tightly by one of the soldiers.

Jeff couldn't even find the strength to struggle.

"It is time, Jeffrey", the mage said softly, studying the younger man with a cold and clinical eye, "The gateway is ready." He could not prevent a small smile from touching his cruel lips. Fear was always something he savored, like a delicacy from the emperor's table, and it was rolling off of Jeff in waves. He leaned forward, enjoying the younger man's slight flinch, and leered over him.

"Emperor Matthew awaits you. Your blood is needed."

**Well, I went a little nuts in that chapter, but damn did I have fun writing it! I'm on a roll with this story, so I should (hopefully) have another chapter up soon. I have a lot of ideas for where I'm taking things. We have a long way to go before this puppy's going to end, I can promise you that! **

**If you dug it, or if you didn't, let me know! I love feedback; it helps me as a writer, folks! **

**And now, as promised in the author's notes above, I'm going to provide readers with a quick, go-to conversion guide, so they can see which doppelganger belongs to which person on earth. Just in case there was any confusion in the story. This is every doppelganger that has appeared thus far. So, here we go.**

**Emperor Matthew = Matt Hardy**

**Marckus = The Undertaker**

**Lieutenant Regal = William Regal**

**Black Guard #1 = Edge**

**Black Guard #2 = Orton**

**Black Guard #3 = Kane**

**Black Guard #4 = Batista**

**Evan = Evan Bourne**

**Shainen = Shannon Moore**

**C'odi, Son of Dustin = Cody Rhodes**

**The Hunter = HHH**

**The Lion = Chris Jericho**

**R'ei = Rey Mysterio**

**Jeffrey = Jeff Hardy**

**Santino = Santino Marella**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Happy Holidays, everybody! **

**Well, it's update time again. I'm really disappointed that I haven't been able to get a chapter out sooner than this, but life has been crazy lately, and I just haven't had the time. Thanks to everyone who's still sticking around to read this! It's currently my pet project and my favorite story to write, so I honestly appreciate your repeat business. And, of course, thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review. You guys rock the house.**

**Now, to respond to said reviewers. Slashdlite, I'm glad you dig it! I'll do my best to keep the surprises coming. :) Onions, as always, you've left me speechless. And, perhaps, a bit constipated. But thanks for your kind remarks. :) Milady2222, I'm glad I had a hand in making your day! Thanks for reading! :) Charmed2007, thanks for checking this out! More questions will be answered in this chapter, so keep reading… Seraphalexiel, "C'odi" is pronounced just like "Cody". I wasn't feeling creative enough to come up with a set of completely new names for the doppelgangers, so I was trying to be a little creative with the spellings, while keeping the pronunciations the same. Just my laziness showing through. :) Emo Matt. Now that's a scary thought! :) Yeah, Evan's kind of ridiculous as a badass assassin. But it amuses me to write him that way, so assassin he shall be. **

**Anyhoo, the WWE owns everything and everyone (except Jeff Hardy, who owns himself, and the doppelgangers, who I own, unless you'd make the argument that I don't own shit because they are based off of real human beings). I am poor, so coming to me for money would be a useless and frivolous undertaking. Stay away, lawyers!**

The Hunter and Jeffrey stood outside of the leader's tent, listening intently to the raised voices wafting out from its interior. The Hunter looked grim as he strained to overhear the conversation, which was heavily muffled by thick, deer hide walls.

"…shouldn't have brought him here!", spoke Evan, the assassin. He sounded furious.

"You are a fool!" The Hunter could hear the dismissal in the Lion's tone.

"_You_ are the fool, if you do not listen!", returned Evan. The frustration in both men's voices was palpable, like crackling electricity within a gathering storm cloud.

The Hunter decided he'd heard enough. He would not have fights breaking out amongst the leadership of the camp. The men were anxious enough as it was, after all. He didn't need them thinking that their generals were quarreling amongst themselves. Such notions would lead to disaster, and he could hardly afford any more setbacks.

Eyes narrowed dangerously, the Hunter strode into the small, dimly-lit space of the leader's tent. Jeffrey followed immediately behind.

The Lion and the young assassin were staring each other down, throwing hateful looks in each others' directions. Neither man acknowledged the new arrivals. Evan glared furiously at the Lion as he tried to make his point known.

"I'm telling you, there's something off about that motherfucker!", Evan asserted, pale face turning red with anger, "I don't trust him!"

The Lion snorted. "You don't trust R'ei because you're afraid he might one-up you in a knife-throwing contest. You're too cocky for your own good, Evan."

The assassin scowled and exhaled sharply but, observing their newly-arrived audience, decided to make no reply.

The Hunter moved further into the tent, motioning that Jeffrey should secure the flap to ensure their privacy. "Did something happen on your way in?", he asked the Lion, eyebrow raised inquisitively.

The other man rolled his eyes. "Nothing of note. R'ei and the super assassin here got into it when I introduced them. They wanted to have a knife fight to prove who the better man was. Just macho bullshit."

Evan shot him an evil glare.

The Hunter crossed his arms in an admonishing fashion, glowering down at the young assassin. "That was foolish, Evan", he said, "To even think of risking your life in such a way, when you carry information from the keep itself."

Evan straightened, his eyes darkening at the rebel leader's admonishment. He looked down at his own clenched fists, nodding stiffly. "I see your point, Hunter, though I will not apologize for my actions. I do not trust that man."

Hunter grimaced. "You trust no one, Evan. _We_ taught you that." He massaged his temple, poking and prodding at the growing headache that would not go away. "And what did R'ei do to earn your disdain, other than offending your pride?"

The young assassin's eyes narrowed. "I am telling you, Hunter, I've been on a hundred missions for you, in a hundred stinking back alleys. I've dealt mostly with criminals and scum for the duration of my career. I know how to smell a rat. And thatson of a bitch is a _rat_! Do you even know anything about him, other than the fact that he's skilled with the knife?"

Hunter glanced over at the Lion, who shrugged noncommittally and looked back down to the knife he'd been deftly twirling between his fingers. The older man sighed. He hated having to resolve situations like this.

He looked to the assassin, who watched him with an angry, defensive gaze. He was obviously waiting for an answer to his question. The Hunter had nothing to put forth, however.

Not anything that would satisfy all that were present, anyway.

The truth was, he knew nothing about the mysterious knife-wielder who even now guarded the outskirts of the camp. R'ei had never seemed to be a threat. He'd wandered into their midst one night, wounded, bleeding from a deep gash in his side. He later told them he'd gotten it from a wolf, after losing his way in the deep woods. He said he'd been trying to find his way back to the emperor's citadel, when he stumbled across the camp. The quiet young man had always seemed to be extremely grateful for their help. He would have, after all, died without their assistance.

After finding his health again, R'ei had decided that he wished to remain, and fight alongside the rebels. The Hunter and the Lion had both been present when he'd demonstrated his exceptional knife-throwing abilities, and they had accepted him without question. Skilled soldiers were, after all, desperately needed in the never-ending battle against the power-crazed emperor, and the turnover rate was frighteningly high.

R'ei had seemed so excited to have the opportunity, so pleased to be able to use his talent in the service of the rebels. He told them that it would be good to have a home again. Hunter remembered that much.

The camp was as much haven as it was battleground. Every man deserved to have a place of respite. With Matthew's attacks growing more brutal by the day, and Regal pushing them further from their places of comfort, the Hunter and the Lion felt the need to shelter as many people as they could.

In the midst of all this chaos, R'ei had come to them. And, as a result of said chaos, the rebel leaders had never even thought to ask him the most cursory of questions.

The Hunter scowled. He never liked questioning the integrity of any of his people. But Evan had been with them for years, and he knew he could trust his instincts. He'd put his life into the young assassin's hands on more than one occasion, and he'd almost always come out on the other side, unscathed.

"I know you don't like hearing it, Hunter", continued Evan, undeterred, "but just think about what I'm saying. Matthew's tried to infiltrate our camp before-

"And he's always failed!", interrupted the Lion, throwing his hands up in aggravation, "He has no idea where to find us!"

"And yet, his man Regal is on the verge of chasing us down and completely destroying our way of life", countered Evan steadily.

The Hunter listened to the young assassin's words, his brow furrowed in thought. He didn't want to consider the possibility, but as leader, he had to. After all, what if there was any substance to Evan's accusation? What if R'ei were indeed working for the emperor?

The Hunter spoke slowly, as if it pained him to pull the words from his throat. "It occurs to me, my friends, that we were so dazzled by R'ei's knife-throwing skills that we allowed him entrance into the camp, asking not the simplest of questions about his past. Now that I think about it, we know absolutely _nothing_ about him."

The Lion looked strangely at his friend. "What are you thinking?"

The Hunter shrugged. "We have a right to know who walks within the boundaries of our encampment. Especially at this critical time." He looked closely at the Lion, as if searching for his approval. "I would simply ask him a few questions. It is well-known that all are accepted here, regardless of past transgressions. If he is free of guilt, he should not balk from my interrogation."

The Lion put a hand on the Hunter's shoulder. "Are you sure this is the best course of action, my friend?", he asked, his expression darkening, "Should the word get out that we are questioning our followers-"

"The word shall not get out", interrupted Hunter, "We must know. We must protect our people." He tried very hard not to glance at his son as he said this. "And as I said, if R'ei is trustworthy, he will agree to answer our questions." Hunter looked to Evan, who nodded his approval. The Hunter shook his great head, sighing. "We shall see if your instincts bear fruit, Evan, or if you are a simple fool jumping at shadows."

"My money's on the latter", muttered the Lion, his arms crossed in an admonishing fashion. He was, however, smirking mischievously.

The Hunter ignored his roguish compatriot, moving on to more pressing matters. "You had news, about what Matthew is up to. Tell us. It may explain why his puppet Regal is chasing our people to the ends of the earth and back."

Evan sat, cross-legged, on the floor. "Well, you remember that you sent me into the city at the base of the keep, to listen for any information regarding Matthew or Marckus?" They both nodded. "While I was there, I heard tell of a job that seemed too good to be true. The black mage himself was searching for a man of able body, spirit, and skill to 'watch over an acquisition of the emperor's'. I met with Marckus himself, after going through the appropriate channels, and he approved me for the job. He promised me a thousand gold pieces, and brought me down to the Cells of the Damned. At first I was worried, wondering if I'd been duped. There was no 'acquisition' in those cells, only sick, dying, and desperate people." Evan watched a shadow fall over the Hunter and the Lion when he mentioned the loyalists who were dying in Matthew's dungeons. He knew both men would have gladly turned themselves in to barter the freedom of those condemned souls. He also knew that the fact that they could do nothing about it tormented them both, day and night. The Hunter's wife, Stephany, had died a slow death in the Cells of the Damned. It haunted him, thinking that others would share her unhappy fate.

Evan took a breath. "But then, 3 days after I arrived, they brought him down."

The young assassin paused, as if to steady himself. "I nearly broke cover when they dumped him in the cell. He looked just like Jeffrey."

All eyes shifted to the shy young man standing in the corner, whose large green eyes had widened in shock at this unexpected revelation. Jeffrey stared fixedly at Evan, his pale, smooth brow furrowed in confusion, and what may have been fear. He found, however, that he could find nothing to add to the strange conversation. He didn't, after all, have any idea why there was a twin of his being kept as a hostage in the keep, may the gods bless and keep his poor soul.

Evan looked away from the Hunter's son, his expression grim. He continued, "Their appearances matched exactly. I thought, for a moment, that the camp had been found, that you had been captured." He paused for a moment. When Evan spoke again, his voice was quiet, and reflective. "But then, I quickly came to realize that this man was not who I thought he was. There was something off about him. He didn't feel like he belonged. Like the air around him was charged, or something. It was very strange."

"Who was he, Evan?", asked the Hunter

Evan met the older man's gaze. "I don't know. All I know is that he and Jeffrey could have been twins. Except, this other one had blue hair-"

"Blue?!", laughed the Lion, "C'mon, you're making this up."

Evan glared. "I'm not making it up! There were a lot of things that were off about him. His clothes for one. I've never seen clothing like that in any land I've been to. That fabric was not made on any loom in Matthew's empire! And he knew my name before I spoke a word to him."

The Hunter looked incredulous. "He just said, 'Hello, Evan'?"

Evan shook his head. "No, no. The moment he saw my face, he said my name, as if he were surprised to see an old friend in an unexpected situation. I told him he had the wrong person."

"Then what happened?"

"He apparently also recognized our cellmate, a poor fellow who had lost his mind when Matthew killed his family. He went by Shainen, I believe."

"Ah, yes", said the Hunter sadly, "I remember him. You say this person knew him?"

"Thought he did. But again, Shainen didn't seem to recognize him, beyond the fact that he thought he should die for who he was."

"Who he was?", said the Lion, "You mean-"

Evan glanced at Jeffrey uncomfortably. "Word got around those cells quickly. There were people there who'd been to the camp before. They recognized the man's face. They thought he was Jeffrey. They thought he was the emperor's brother."

"And did this cause any problems?", asked the Hunter. He leaned forward, his dark eyes flaring with anger.

"Uh", replied Evan, swallowing nervously, "One or two."

In the corner, Jeffrey hugged himself protectively, watching the scene unfold with stoic attentiveness. _One or two, _Evan had said, eyes locked on the Hunter. Sadness flicked across Jeffrey's delicate, pale features as he heard this.

He was always causing problems. He supposed it was his blood and his birthright to do so. Those he cared about were always cleaning up after his considerable messes.

"Shainen tried to attack him, but I managed to stop him. I was, after all, being paid to watch over him", he said ironically.

"Shainen attacked the prisoner, thinking he was Jeffrey?" The Hunter's tone was frigid. He paused, balling his hands into tight fists, squeezing hard enough to painfully dig his fingernails into the palms of his hands. Spinning around, he walked briskly across the room in three long strides. When he came to a stop, he stood there, staring numbly at the light brown wall of the tent.

His voice, when he spoke again, was low and rumbling, like the distant roar of a river within a mountain gorge. "I have told them", he said quietly, his back to everyone present, "I told them all. It matters not where, or when, or under what circumstances one should do so. To speak against Jeffrey is to speak against me. I do not forgive such treachery."

"Father-", said Jeffrey hesitantly, in an effort to calm the furious man down.

"NO!", Hunter shouted, spinning around and glaring at all of them as if they were Matthew himself. The blonde man pointed at his son with an unsteady hand. "He doesn't deserve it! The men need to understand that Jeffrey is nothing like his damned brother! He is not a monster!" His eyes met Jeffrey's then; a sad and frightened gaze locking onto a rage-filled glare. Jeffrey understood; his eyes said it all. He had known from the beginning how he would be treated. He _expected_ to be shunned. It was simply a sacrifice he had to make.

Hunter suddenly felt like a fool. He realized then that his son was certainly a wiser man than he was.

He felt his anger begin to diminish and fall away, as if it had never been. He took a deep breath, in an effort to compose himself. "I apologize", he said quietly, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, "To all of you. I should not have lost control of myself."

The Lion smirked. "We're used to it."

"Was there anything else?", asked the Hunter, ignoring his compatriot's gentle rib. The older man began to rub at the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache.

"Just that Matthew and Marckus seemed very protective of him."

"Wait a minute, my friend", said the Lion, anger riming his normally jovial voice, "Did you say _Matthew_ seemed protective of him?"

The Hunter stood beside him, his eyes piercing.

"God, you two miss nothing", Evan muttered.

"What were you doing anywhere _near_ Matthew?!", snapped the Lion, his eyes blazing with anger, "You were to gather information. Confronting the bastard directly did not fall within the parameters of your mission, Evan! Had he found out why you were there, it could have been bad for all of us! He'd have had Marckus torture you until you told him everything! Gods, you are a damned fool sometimes!"

"I… felt the need to see what we were fighting against!", Evan replied desperately, feeling a strong need to defend himself despite the fact that he knew he was wrong, "I needed to see the bastard's face. So I pretended to be angry that I hadn't been paid by the mage, and followed Marckus up to the emperor's chamber. I simply walked in on their coattails", Evan said abashedly, suddenly realizing how foolish it sounded. "At the time, I thought it was a necessary risk."

"You could have been killed", hissed the Lion, "or worse."

"I was there for _you_!", Evan shot back, "I did it for _you_!-"

"Bullshit!", growled the Lion, "You did it for your own damned ego. So you'd have a grand story to tell your friends when you got back to camp."

Evan met the Lion's gaze, his eyes ablaze. "Fuck you!", he growled, his fists tightening at his sides.

"Enough!" The Hunter stepped between the two men, trying to diffuse the situation. He placed his large hand upon Evan's shoulder, glancing back around at his compatriot. "Stop this, the both of you! We haven't the time right now."

Evan took a deep breath. The Lion took a step backwards, his traditional smirk placed firmly back where it should've been.

"Sorry about that, Evan", he said, "But I have to keep you in line."

"Asshole", muttered the young assassin under his breath. No more was said about it.

"There is a twin of Jeffrey at the keep, yes Evan?", said the Hunter, his voice growing more and more agitated by the word, "And you said that he felt 'wrong', somehow, as if he were not from here. Two Jeffreys, in one place. Matthew and his black wizard are planning something, and I assure you it shall not bode well for us, or the people."

"What are you saying?", asked the Lion, who already knew the answer, but wanted to hear his comrade say it aloud.

"We must liberate this prisoner, if for no other reason than the fact that he is useful to Matthew", the Hunter replied gravely.

Evan shook his head adamantly. "You don't understand. They have this guy under lock and key and guard and magical sentry. It's ridiculous. You don't really expect to lead a pack of known criminals into the keep and liberate a valuable prisoner from right under Matthew's nose, do you? I mean, I'm idealistic and everything, but come on, I'm not quite out of my mind. And that, my friends, is fucking crazy."

"Do you have a plan?", asked the Lion, ignoring Evan's rant entirely.

The other nodded. "I do", he replied, his worried gaze drawn to Jeffrey. The young man looked especially pale.

"Good", the Lion said wearily, "Because we're gonna need a good one."

* * * * * * *

"Leave us, Marckus", Matthew said quietly. His voice echoed throughout the empty throne room.

The great mage bowed to the waist. Then, in one, graceful gesture, he turned into the wall and was gone.

Jeff struggled against a set of magically-enhanced manacles that bound his wrists above his head. The fear that he'd been so desperately trying to keep at bay was now rising quickly to the surface, in a monstrous wave that would leave only destruction in its wake. He didn't know what to do. All he could think about was his corpse, lying there cold, and lifeless, and so young. It seemed like such a waste. Matt, his dad, his friends, all wondering what had happened to him. Would they cry for him, or had they forgotten him already? The desperation rose higher, choking the air out of him.

"Please", he managed to say, "Please don't do this. I'll do anything you want, just please-"

Matthew turned to face Jeff, a black-bladed knife held reverently in his steady hands. "The time for negotiation has past, Jeffrey", he said, his voice emotionless, "Now is the time for action."

"Please, Matthew!", Jeff begged, his voice no more than a despondent rasp. When he saw that his pleas had no effect, he began to struggle wildly on the makeshift altar that the mage had supplied. The emperor continued to walk towards him, a determined glare upon his familiar features.

A fat tear rolled down Jeff's cheek, as the reality of his situation came to bear. He was going to die, far from anyone who loved him. No one would ever know. He shut his eyes tightly, hoping he would just fall asleep. Hoping he wouldn't feel it when Matthew shoved that giant blade into his gut. More tears ran down his ashen cheeks.

Matthew came to a stop when he reached the altar. He studied the younger man before him. He was covered in dirt from the dungeons. He was beaten, starved. When he had arrived on this world, he'd been pristine, and untouched. Now that he'd been here for a time, the filth that was this place had seeped in, and soiled his perfection. Two white tear tracks made their way down his dirty face. His blue hair, tangled and mussed, was spread out around his head like a strange and beautiful halo.

Matthew cocked his head. Strange and beautiful. Yes, it was what Jeffrey was. It seemed a waste and a travesty to destroy him.

He ran a finger gently down his prisoner's cheek, causing Jeff to flinch and open his eyes. Their gazes met.

"Don't play with me", hissed Jeff, rage tinting his voice, "You're obviously not going to let me go. So, get it over with." Another tear fell from his eye.

Matthew studied Jeff's face. "I have never once shied away from ending anyone's life. And yet, I stand before you, Jeffrey, having second thoughts about this ceremony. A ceremony, I might add, which was planned to the last detail, and is very important to my future endeavors. So why, I ask you, am I questioning myself?"

"Maybe because what you're doing is evil, and some part of you realizes that", Jeff replied bitterly. He sounded so tired. Even he didn't believe his own words.

Matthew laughed. "You see? It is _that_ which I do not wish to destroy! That ridiculous naiveté, that wide-eyed innocence undoubtedly cultivated by your world. We spoke of the clowns on the street corners earlier. That is what you have been to me in your time here! You amuse me! You bring me enjoyment! I need such things in these times."

"Fuck you", Jeff growled. He looked away.

Matthew's expression darkened. He grabbed Jeff forcibly under the chin, forcing him to look up at him. "I do not want to kill you Jeffrey", he brought the knife into view, moving it teasingly towards his prisoner's throat, then retracting it, "But make no mistake, I will. It is, in fact, inevitable." He began to caress the skin of Jeff's cheeks with the blade, softly enough that no blood was drawn. The bound man lay there, frozen in terror, not knowing what Matthew intended to do.

"Are you afraid, Jeffrey?", whispered the emperor, his breath cold on Jeff's tear-streaked face, "Do you tremble in the face of death?" He smiled grimly and leaned over his prisoner, looking at him closely. "Or have I defeated you to the point to where you simply no longer care?" The knife's gentle stroking was driving Jeff mad. The constraints holding his hands above his head were making him feel extremely uncomfortable, almost claustrophobic. He heard Matthew sigh then, thoughtfully. "This world is dead. Its people are dead. There is nothing here, not anymore." He did not sound angry, or sad, or regretful. His tone was casual, and uncaring. "That is why we need you, Jeffrey. That is why you are so important." Matthew ran a hand gently down Jeff's cheek. The younger man closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to see his brother's face anymore.

Suddenly, Jeff felt the knife dig in.

"Open your eyes." Matthew sounded like any regrets he'd once had were now safely tucked away. The younger Hardy's eyes slowly slid open, only to see the emperor regarding him with cold, fathomless eyes.

He was breathing hard, out of sheer panic. His bloodshot green eyes were fixed on his tormenter.

Matthew let the knife rest on Jeff's throat, eliciting a whimper from his captive. He placed just a bit of pressure on the blade, and a tiny trickle of blood ran from the fresh wound. "I believe we shall wait", he mused quietly, speaking to himself, "Yes. That would be best." The blade was lifted from his prisoner's throat. Jeff was relieved, though he said nothing.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain as Matthew sliced into his arm with the razor-sharp blade. The young Hardy cried out in pain as blood began to flow freely from the wound.

"Fuck!", he cursed, glaring up at his captor, the pain temporarily making him forget his fear.

Ignoring the outburst, Matthew collected the precious blood in a small glass vial.

When he'd taken enough, he spoke a few words over Jeff's arm. The Hardy boy felt a strange tingling, as if all the blood in his body were suddenly rushing into the appendage. When he looked, the wound was gone, as if it had never been.

Matthew was already walking away.

"How did you do that?!", Jeff yelled at his back, his eyes wide with fear and amazement.

Matthew didn't turn around. "Do not ask foolish questions, Jeffrey. I shall return later. Were I you, I would prepare myself. This was nothing but a brief respite."

Jeff stared at the retreating emperor, a terrible coldness creeping up through his stomach. What else was there to say? There would be no rescue for him, no cavalry, and certainly no pardon.

He would die. Later. Whenever Matthew tired of his "clownish" antics, and finally felt it was time.

Jeff stared at the ceiling, praying for something, anything, to happen.

Little did he know that salvation was not far away.

* * * * * * *

R'ei sat in his customary spot on the edge of the camp, far from the warmth of the campfires and the bustle of dinnertime activity. He knew that he should make more of an effort to blend in with these people, but the more he observed them, the less he cared to do so. They were fools, and Lord Matthew would destroy them all. It was just a matter of time.

The ranger picked up a small branch that had fallen from the tree he was sitting under. Pulling out one of his blades from a concealed sheath in his sleeve, he slowly and deliberately began to carve the bark off. He had no purpose for doing this. Whittling simply helped focus his thoughts, and a clear mind was what he desperately needed right now.

Something was stirring here in camp. The Hunter and the Lion had covertly gathered a small group of their best and most trusted men about an hour back, and then disappeared into the woods. R'ei could not follow them without looking suspicious, and he already knew he, being a newcomer and a loner, was being observed closely by the Hunter's watchdogs.

He knew that Lieutenant Regal wanted him to send word of the goings-on within the camp. It had been too long since he'd sent out a report. But really, what could he tell the man that he didn't already know? The rebels were on the run. Though things appeared bad for them, morale remained high in the encampment, as the men here trusted the Hunter and the Lion to get them out of any dangerous situation that may arise.

R'ei sneered. They were all fools. They may as well just save themselves the trouble and bend knee to Lord Matthew now, before he hunted them down and destroyed them slowly, piece by piece.

A pale, willowy blonde man stepped into the firelight then, drawing the ranger's full attention away from his musings. R'ei had been watching this one for weeks. They called him Jeffrey. Apparently, according to the others anyway, he was supposed to be the emperor's brother. As he continued to whittle away at the branch, he watched as Jeffrey quietly greeted several people, and took a meager helping of slop from the cooking pot.

Matthew's brother was supposed to be dead. If this man was indeed related by blood to the emperor, it would have terrible ramifications for loyalists to the throne, such as himself. R'ei dropped the branch, and began to stroke his knife. If the rebels were hiding a true heir to the throne with rebel sympathies, it would be over for Matthew. There would be rebellion, blood in the streets, and Matthew's "impenetrable" fortress would be washed away in the resulting tide of anarchy.

All because of this shy, unassuming man who looked like he would fall over if hit with a strong wind.

R'ei wondered if he should simply kill him. Now would be the perfect opportunity. The Hunter and the Lion were away, and the other rebels, though cordial, seemed to generally shy away from the unassuming man.

The assassin discarded that thought after a few moments' time. He needed to know more about Jeffrey. He needed to gather as much information as he could before he made a move, one way or the other.

Silently, R'ei shifted himself slightly closer to the fire, his intense gaze fixed on the pale blonde man in front of him. Jeffrey, seemingly downtrodden about something, kept his eyes firmly on the ground. He picked distractedly at his steaming bowl of food.

R'ei watched, and waited.

He would reveal his secrets, soon enough.

* * * * * * *

Matthew stood atop the battlements, surveying his lands. These were lands that had long ago been destroyed by fire, and warfare, and black magic. Once, it had pained him to climb up here. He hadn't liked to look at the devastation. The scorched earth and twisted tree stumps, reaching like a field full of deformed corpses towards the gray sky.

Now, however, he cared nothing for this place. Pits of ever-burning fire blazed just beyond the city walls, set aflame from the toxins in the air. He watched them, his face betraying no emotion. He felt nothing as he watched the foolish peasants meander aimlessly in the citadel far below him.

Matthew fought the urge to sigh. He simply wanted to be gone from here.

He had delayed in taking Jeffrey's blood. He had stopped himself from killing him. And, as a result, he continued to be trapped here.

Matthew didn't know why he had been unable to destroy Jeffrey. Perhaps he felt some tiny affection for him because he was his deceased brother's doppelganger. Perhaps his emotions had overcome his reason, and he had acted a fool as a result. Matthew didn't know, but he _did_ know that the sentimentality would not be repeated. Jeffrey _would_ die. In a few hours, when he had managed to collect himself.

He heard Marckus join him on the battlement, a quiet pulling of air the only indication that he had actually arrived. "My Lord." The mage's normally low, detached voice sounded agitated, somehow.

Matthew turned to face him.

"What is wrong?" His dark eyes glittered like beetles as they intensely appraised him.

"The Hunter and the Lion are here", Marckus replied.

Matthew's eyes widened, rage filling him.

The black mage, normally incapable of fear, found his resolve weakening. "They have… taken Jeffrey my Lord."

Matthew's scream of fury could be heard all through the citadel, and throughout the adjoining land.

**So, the Hunter and the Lion have gotten their grubby mitts on Jeff now, eh? How the heck did that happen?! What is going on around here? Does this mean Jeff is safe, or is he out of the frying pan and into the fire, so to speak? What will happen with R'ei and Jeffrey? And, of course, what is going to happen when Jeff and Jeffrey meet for the very first time?!!!!! **

**Stay tuned! Lots more to come!! REVIEWS ARE LOVED!! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I was watching that movie "Velvet Goldmine" the other day. It's a kind-of indie-ish flick from a while back starring (get ready for this hotness) Ewan MacGregor and Jonathan Rhys Meyers, and it's about glam rock. I was watching it, and there's this scene where Ewan pulls his pants down on stage and starts jumping around, letting his wang fly all over the place. Then he covers himself in oil and glitter. And I said to myself in that moment, "Self, why didn't you make the doppelgangers more like **_**that**_**?" I mean, could you imagine a carbon copy of Mr. MacMahon, running around in tight leather, lipstick, and glitter? (sigh) This would be the best story ever… :) **

**Thanks to everybody who reviewed! Slashdlite, thank you! I've been purposely trying to keep Matthew's motives slightly unclear, so as to keep you, the reader, off balance. I'm glad it's working. :) Takers dark lover, I can't tell you whether Jeff is better off with the rebels or not, I can only tell you that this is about to become one giant, fucked up mess! And in Ch. 9, Matt was viewing one of Emperor Matthew's memories. He saw the time that Matthew cut himself up, trying to kill himself. That's where the scar on his hand came from. It was just random self-mutilation on the part of the emperor, as he tried to block out the pain of losing his brother Jeffrey. Seraphalexiel, yeah, Emperor Matthew's contingent of guards would seem to be sub-par. You never know, maybe Festus' doppelganger is guarding Jeffro. (Oh, I'm sorry, it's "Luke Gallows" now. Where in blue hell did they come up with that gimmick, anyway? So random.) Anyway, Evan is still an eleven year old girl, but I'll always try and write him as a mean assassin with an anger management problem. And I love the fact that he and the Lion love/hate each other. This isn't a slash, but if it was, they would've been in bed like two chapters ago. :) Matt with Jedi-like powers? Now **_**that**_** would be trippy… UPDATE, thanks for reading and reviewing. Who's on which side? You'll have to read on to find out… :)**

**Thanks for sticking around this long, and bearing with me. I know this story's not the typical fare, so you guys are awesome to say, "Fuck it. I really don't mind dealing with BreakingFable's idiotic tangents that much." Much obliged.**

**As always, WWE owns all (except Jeff Hardy, who owns himself, and the doppelgangers, who BreakingFable made up, though they are based on real wrestlers, so there's a small chance she might be sued if some bored lawyer ever saw this). I, being a poor and lowly plebian, own nothing.**

_**(45 minutes before the guards' discovery that Jeff is missing…)**_

"It has been a long time since I stood in this place", the Hunter said softly.

The Lion, himself, and Evan walked cautiously through filthy, narrow back alleyways of the citadel. The crowded peasant homes were placed haphazardly along the roadside, amongst the ever-present garbage and muck covering the streets like an immoveable tide of slime. As the rebels walked quickly down the shadowy street, they poised their hands instinctually over their concealed blades. They were making their way towards the common square, trying to prevent the tension they were feeling from showing in their body language.

Evan reached up and pulled his cowl down lower around his face. He glanced around, pleased to see that no one was paying them the slightest bit of attention. "We haven't even had a glance from any of those guards", the young assassin said softly, a smirk upon his face, "We'll walk right past them. These robes were a genius idea."

"Don't start patting yourself on the back just yet, kiddo", whispered the Lion, amused, "You forget. Getting inside is easy. Getting _out_ will be the true challenge."

"Quiet", hissed the Hunter.

The rebel leader's eyes had darkened in anger as he stood, looking up at Matthew's immense stone fortress. The structure's seemingly impenetrable walls loomed over them like death itself.

"Come", urged Hunter, speaking softly, "We must be swift." He pulled the cowl of his hood down around his head, though the simple disguise did nothing to comfort his anxiousness. The rebel leader could not rid himself of the notion that they were willingly entering a trap, like docile animals being led to the slaughterhouse.

They walked across the common square, moving through the mid-day crowds and street vendors.

"This way." Following the Hunter's instructions, they moved onto a side street, into another shadowy back alley. As they followed the path, the noise of the crowd grew more and more distant, until it was nothing but a steady, background din. After a few minutes, the rebels emerged onto a flat, fire-blackened field outside of the citadel. Several yards away stood the fortress, rising up out of the charred earth like a tree of metal and stone.

"Gods", whispered the Lion, "I almost forgot how unnecessarily huge it was."

Evan shook his head. "I can't believe we're doing this. I mean, now that we're here, I'm wondering if this is actually worth us risking our necks. We don't even know the guy. He's not one of us-"

The Hunter interrupted him, his tone rife with frustration. "If you must justify it to yourself, Evan, simply remember that he is useful to Matthew. And what is useful to Matthew, is never good for us. We must discover who this man is, and what he is doing here."

This explanation seemed to be good enough for Evan. The young assassin gave a long-suffering sigh, and continued moving towards the wall that separated the citadel from the fortress, gently fingering the knife strapped to his wrist.

There was a stone wall, about two heads taller than the height of an average man, separating the fortress grounds from the outer citadel. The Hunter, Lion, and Evan stood eyeing it, readying themselves for what came next. The trio knew that things were about to get far more difficult in their quest to enter the keep. They would have to follow the Hunter's plan to the letter in order to get in and out undetected. Luckily, the rebels had several trusted contacts employed within the walls of Matthew's fortress, working as servants or guards. Today, their contact had done well. He had assured them that were they to arrive at 2:30 exactly, the changing of the guard would be taking place, and therefore, no guards would be present on the parapets to witness them scaling the wall. The Lion glanced up, and saw the tower empty of life. He immediately climbed the wall, Hunter and Evan following suit. The rebels crossed the short distance to the base of the enormous keep. Once there, they began to move stealthily along the wall, searching for the place their contact within had pointed out to them. It took five minutes for them to locate a filthy, neglected wooden door on the side of the building. A portly, exotic-looking man wearing an apron that was covered in grease and sweat stains leaned against the doorframe, smoking a clove cigarette. He straightened when the rebels made their way towards him.

"It is about time, my friends", he said quietly, a wide grin painting his face, "You are late! I was beginning to get worried."

"You can blame the kid here, Umah'geh", said the Lion, smirking, "He's new to the game, and doesn't quite know what he's doing yet, but he begged to tail along."

Evan scowled. "Fuck you!"

Umah'geh laughed. "Well, we'd best go inside." He moved aside, allowing the others to move past him.

The Hunter looked behind him, to assure himself that they hadn't been followed. Of course if the Black Guard was tailing them, they would have no way of knowing, until it was too late. "My friend", he said, his tone deadly serious, "Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary today? Anything that may indicate Matthew is aware of our presence in the city?"

The large, tattooed cook shook his head. "I don't believe so. He's been too distracted by his new toy to worry about you two. That's why he dispatched Regal into the forests, to get rid of you. It was his way of washing his hands of the whole affair." The big man scratched his head, as if in bewilderment. "Funny. By the time news reaches us here at the keep, it's always full of at least a few exaggerations or inaccuracies. You have to filter out what sounds most likely to be true. Reports have been reaching us for weeks now that Regal's had you on the run, that you were being forced further and further away from familiar territory. I never knew what to think when I heard such things. I never thought they could be true." Umah'geh grinned. "After all, I've always thought Regal was… kind of a moron."

Evan snorted. The Lion laughed, clapping the exotic giant on his shoulder.

"Truer words were never spoken, my friend", said the Lion, crooked smirk widening on his handsome face.

The Hunter's gaze grew serious suddenly, as if he'd suddenly remembered his purpose for being here. "Matthew is keeping a valuable prisoner?", he asked, "Someone who looks like Jeffrey?"

Umah'geh nodded gravely. "He looks _exactly_ like Jeffrey. I caught a glimpse of him when I was watering the prisoners in the cells. It was disturbing, seeing that completely familiar face, and yet recognizing nothing about it." The big man shook his head. "Matthew's warlock at work with his black magic, undoubtedly."

"We must see him immediately."

If there had been a trace of fear that crossed Umah'Geh's face, it was now gone. "He is in the throne room. I fear he may not have much time left."

The Hunter and the Lion looked at each other determinedly. "Then we must hurry."

* * * * * * *

Umah'geh took the Hunter, the Lion, and Evan through hidden servants' passageways, created so that resident royalty would not have to be offended daily with the sight of servant traffic through the gilded hallways. The jovial cook had always found the lightless tunnels to be distasteful, though he did find them useful for occasions such as this, when he needed to move about in secrecy. He doubted Matthew even knew these passages existed.

The four men moved quickly through the featureless hallway, which twisted, turned, and inclined. After ten minutes, they came to a stop. There was a plain white door, which looked exactly like any of the other 75 doors they'd just passed by. This one, however, had a small "X" painted above the handle in black ink. A warning, perhaps, to stay clear of this place, at all costs.

"This is the throne room", said Umah'Geh. His voice was full of trepidation as he stared at the black X. It may as well have screamed "Do Not Enter" at them. "This is as far as I go, my friends. I will wait for you here."

"Evan, wait with him." The Lion's tone brooked no argument. He was already following the Hunter, who was moving cautiously into the silent room, sword at the ready.

The rebel leaders stuck to the shadows, their soft boots shuffling quietly on the marble floor. They stopped for a moment just inside the door, to survey the scene and assure themselves that they were alone. They knew that Marckus could camouflage himself, and hide in plain sight. They knew the Black Guard wore magical armor that could shield them from detection. There was an unending list of things that could possibly go wrong. Matthew was, after all, superbly gifted when it came to employing strategies that would assure his own survival.

Steeling themselves for anything, the rebels slowly moved forward into the room. Matthew's great onyx throne stood against the opposite wall, empty, intimidating even without its royal occupant. The intruders took in soaring buttresses, and worn tapestries depicting ancient battles. Neither man had been in this place before. Neither wished to be again.

"There", whispered the Hunter suddenly. His eyes had fallen upon a stone slab off in the corner of the room. There was someone chained to it.

Moving quickly, the Hunter and the Lion ran across the vast room, each readying his own weapon, just in case it turned out to be a ruse.

The two men came to a halt at the foot of the altar, their eyes wide with shock.

"Oh gods", thought Hunter, his gaze locked on the familiar visage of the young man before him, "Jeffrey…"

* * * * * * *

Jeff heard a door open, and his heart dropped to his feet. He didn't think that Matthew would've returned so soon, but he supposed, in some ways, it was a mercy. He wouldn't have to lie here anymore, wondering about what death would bring. All of this drawn-out bullshit would finally end.

Slow, almost cautious footsteps. Quiet, steady breathing. Creaking of leather. Jeff waited for the final blow to come.

"My god", came an all-too-familiar voice, "He looks exactly like him!"

"Chris?", Jeff whispered tentatively, not sure what to make of this new development.

The Lion's harsh gasp echoed through the silent throne room, followed immediately by his sharp, quick footsteps bearing down on the frightened and confused prisoner. Jeff gasped in pain as he suddenly felt fingers tangle themselves in his filthy, knotted hair. His eyes widened when he saw the anger-filled face of Chris Jericho staring down at him.

"Chris, stop-", Jeff begged, forgetting in his weakness and shock that this man was, in no way, the Chris he knew. Still chained to the table, the younger man couldn't even struggle against his attacker.

"Did you hear what he said?", the Lion said quietly, addressing his compatriot, "He knows my real name! You're the only person alive that knows that! How could he possibly-?"

"Enough!", whispered the Hunter, his authoritative voice cutting through the man's anger-fueled ramblings, "This is not the place to address this. We must release him if we are to learn any more. Now pick those locks, and be quick about it! Remember where you are!"

The Lion didn't look happy, but he did as he'd been told.

Jeff, meanwhile, was staring with wide, frightened eyes between the two of them. They were twins of Hunter and Chris, though if he'd learned one thing while stuck in this place, it was not to trust anyone, no matter how friendly the face may be. The young Hardy's eyes flicked down to the wicked-looking blades at "Chris's" hip, and felt his stomach clench in fear. These men were dangerous, and he'd already pissed one of them off. He honestly couldn't tell if they were going to be his saviors, or a new problem he'd have to try and extricate himself from.

"What do you want with me?", Jeff asked in an unsteady voice, looking back and forth between the two of them, "Who the hell are you people?" He sat up as the Lion finished, rubbing the tender skin of his wrists.

The Hunter moved forward and grabbed Jeff's arm with an iron-tight grip, making the younger man wince in pain. "It is not your place to ask questions. Suffice to say that you _were_ Matthew's prisoner; you are now ours. Be grateful for it." He turned Jeff to face the servants' door, keeping a grip on his arm all the while. "Now, I suggest you get moving, and keep quiet. Staying here any longer would not be advisable."

The Hunter pushed his prisoner roughly, forcing him along when he stumbled or walked too slowly.

Jeff was practically hyperventilating in fear.

These people seemed like common criminals, thugs kidnapping him for ransom, or perhaps just because they just wanted someone to torture. Perhaps they thought he was privy to some of the emperor's secrets, though these people were kidding themselves if they thought he actually had any useful information.

Whatever the reason, he had a feeling his situation had just gotten a whole lot worse.

*** * * * * * ***

Emperor Matthew was angry. He was in a rage. He wanted to kill someone.

Jeffrey had been taken from him, right under his nose. The Hunter and the Lion had soiled his keep with their presence, crawling in the shadows like the filthy cockroaches they were. They had stolen his property. _No one_ stole from him and lived.

The young monarch could feel Marckus' cold gaze on him from across the room, cataloguing every change of expression, every muscle twitch. The dark mage was watching the emperor with a candidness of expression that had gotten most men killed. Matthew silently appreciated this. After all, no one else in his empire would dare be so bold.

"I want them dead", Matthew hissed, his first words in hours, "I want them to suffer. The Hunter and the Lion have been thorns in my side for far too long. The time has come for our impasse to come to an end."

"I agree that your game with the rebels has gone on for far too long", Marckus said in his low, rough voice, "Though, if you do not mind me saying, my liege, I believe there are larger things to worry about at this time than exterminating the rebel scum. Finding Jeffrey should be our main concern. Without him, we cannot enter the gate. We will not be able to leave this place."

The emperor pondered this, his brow furrowed in concentration. "As usual, Marckus, you are correct. Finding Jeffrey _should_ be our top priority", he said, allowing a sadistic grin to cross his face, "Therefore, I shall triple the number of men searching for the Hunter and the Lion. We know Jeffrey is with them. Regal should have no problem tracking them down with a larger contingent of soldiers; the forest is only so big, after all. And when he finds them-", his smile grew wider, "I will have the satisfaction of hearing them beg for a swift death. It shall be my last act in this world to destroy the Hunter and the Lion, and to burn the forests until they are nothing more than a wasteland of ash and cinder. It shall be a fitting grave for them."

As Emperor Matthew pondered this, he suddenly realized that he was in a much better mood. He sat back upon his onyx throne, running his fingers absentmindedly over the runes carved into the stone, thinking sweet thoughts of revenge.

Marckus stood still, watching his emperor, cold and still as the stone beneath his feet.

* * * * * * *

"We'll be reaching the camp in about 20 minutes, Hunter", Evan said quietly, "I'll scout ahead, make sure there's no trouble waiting for us."

Hunter nodded absently, barely registering it when the young assassin rode off into the thick nest of trees. Beside him, he dimly realized, the Lion was keeping a sharp watch on the surrounding area, attempting to prevent an ambush, should Regal's men be out there.

Hunter knew that he should have been just as diligent in his watch, however he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything since they'd picked up their prisoner. The pale young man was riding with him, his hands bound in front of him, his head bowed in either submission or exhaustion, perhaps both. Hunter took a breath to steady himself. He looked so much like Jeffrey. He had the same thoughtful green eyes, the same flawless pale skin, the same slim build. Hunter had always thought his adopted son was such a unique creature, a spring lily in a world full of tangle-weeds. This boy before him laid waste to Jeffrey's distinctive individuality, however, something that he knew his son treasured.

This disturbed Hunter, but more than that, it made him angry.

The big man glared at the back of Jeff's head, as if all of this was his fault. Grunting, he nudged his prisoner in the back. The young Hardy straightened slightly and turned to look back at his captor.

"What's your name?", Hunter asked, glaring down at the smaller man.

Half-concealed fear flashed onto Jeff's face as he gazed sidelong at Hunter. "Why do you care?", he asked quietly.

The rebel leader leaned forward, irritation plain upon his stoic face. "I do not have to explain my reasons to you. You are our prisoner. If I have a question, you will answer it. Now", he said, his tone soft and dangerous, "What is your damned name?"

The younger man looked into the familiar/not familiar eyes, and realized that defiance would be utterly foolish. He dropped his gaze, a show of defeat. "Jeff." His voice was hoarse with exhaustion.

The Hunter and the Lion shared a look. Jeff and Jeffrey. The two of them shared a name as well?

Their musings were cut short by Evan, who was riding back into view.

"It's all clear, straight into camp", said the young assassin a bit breathlessly, "The others are waiting for you."

"Excellent", said the Lion, smirking, "Now I can finally get some decent ale in my gullet." The blonde man took the reins of his white mare in a tight grip, bringing her to a gallop in the direction of the camp.

The Hunter spurred his mount on as well. He was eager to see his son, and to ensure that the business of the camp had been well-attended to in their absence.

As Jeff felt the strong arms of Triple H's doppelganger encircle him tightly to grab the reins, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. How many others were there at this camp? The disappointment burned within him as he realized that the odds for escape had just risen from improbable to impossible. There was a chance that he could've, somehow, caught the three who had taken him from Matthew's by surprise and escaped. Three men, after all, is three men. But a camp full of them? Never in a million years.

God, what could a camp full of criminals _want_ with him, anyway? Thoughts of what they might do to him after everything he'd already been through began to rush through his head, and he began to breathe heavily out of shear panic. Tears began to run down his cheeks. He tried desperately to stem the flow, but the tiny spark of hope he'd held so desperately to since he'd arrived in this terrible place was rapidly disappearing before his very eyes, and he could see no way to retrieve it. His shoulders shook under the weight of his own despair.

"I understand you were kept in the Cells of the Damned", the doppelganger said, his rough voice soft in Jeff's ear.

"So?" Jeff didn't look at his captor. His quiet reply sounded anxious and overwrought, even to his own ears.

"So, that can be a harrowing experience for anyone. Well-trained soldiers go mad in that place. Surrounded by the dying, the desperate, the condemned." Hunter's voice became strained. "It must be a horrible thing."

Jeff would have twisted to look the man in the eyes, had they not been on a horse galloping at top speed. "The people in that place-", he choked, "It was like they were already dead. Matthew and Marckus did that to them. And that godawful place- !" Jeff paused, taking an unsteady breath. "Everything about it made you want to lie down on the ground and give up. At the end of the day, though, no matter how much you forced yourself to fight back against the depression and the hopelessness, you always had it hanging over your head that, in the end, you were going to die. So, in the end, there really was no point."

A pause. "I'm sorry Matthew did that to you, Jeff."

Jeff sighed audibly. "So am I."

Nothing more was said as the pair made their way through the thick underbrush of the darkening forest. Hunter handled the large gray stallion with the confidence of one who'd been riding for years, steering the animal as if it were an extension of his own body.

Suddenly, the cookfires of the camp came into view, their light flickering off of the low-hanging canopy of trees and surrounding foliage. Jeff immediately tensed at the view of the bustling camp, as if readying himself for a coming blow.

The Hunter kept his dark eyes ahead, on his people. He could see, even from here, that something was wrong. There were too many people gathered into a group, all of them pacing and agitated. Some appeared to be openly carrying weapons. He could see the Lion talking to them, trying to calm them, though his words appeared to be falling on deaf ears.

"What the hell-?", murmured Hunter, spurring his mount on.

A few moments later, he galloped into the midst of the commotion.

He dismounted, and pulled Jeff down after him, ignoring the buzz of conversation that had begun as soon as the young prisoner had entered the camp. Holding tight to the back of Jeff's arm, the Hunter glared at his harried followers.

"What is going on here?", he asked, looking around with his penetrating gaze.

Silence.

"I asked a ques-"

"And we heard you", came an arrogant voice from the back, "But perhaps we're just _tired_ of listening to you."

"Theodore", the Lion said, glaring, all traces of his normal good humor gone, "Stirring up the masses? To what end, I wonder?"

Theodore made his way through the crowd of rebels with his head held high, his rigid bearing displaying his privileged background for all to see. Dark mutters from the crowd of gathered rebels followed him as he made his way to the front.

Theodore was not popular amongst the rebels in the camp. In fact, though the Hunter and the Lion tried very hard never to allow their personal opinions to influence them, they both found that they strongly disliked the man as well. Though he came from an exceedingly rich family, the young upstart had joined the Hunter and the Lion for one reason only: adventure and glory. As soon as he'd arrived, however, he'd found that it was more day-to-day labor than anything else. He felt like a servant, chopping wood and hauling water from the stream. It angered him, and he felt duped. He'd always blamed the Hunter and the Lion, in loud and angry tones, saying that he'd been lied to, and that he deserved better, being the son of gentile folk.

The good people of the camp had learned to weather Theodore's complaints with a smile, seeing it as just another quirk of living amongst such motley folk. But that didn't mean the young man's constant griping didn't get on their nerves.

Theodore had come to be _tolerated_, at best.

"Oh, I had to do very little, Lion", replied the younger man coolly, a smirk upon his face, "These people are extremely upset. They, like me, feel slighted about the conditions of this abysmal place. They feel it is time for a change."

Immediately, voices were raised in protest. The people were on the verge of attacking him, though Theodore was oblivious to the fact. He stood, a smug smile upon his face, staring down the rebel leaders.

"You have chosen the wrong day to attempt a rebellion, Theodore", said the Hunter, his tone icily calm, "I have more important things to worry about than you."

Before the other could reply, an audible gasp cut through the din of conversation. Everyone looked to the edge of the gathered crowd, where Jeffrey stood, green eyes wide, mouth agape. He was staring unabashedly at Jeff, a look of mingled curiosity and horror on his pale face.

Jeff stared right back, mirroring the lanky young man's expression perfectly.

"It's happened", he thought wryly, "After everything that's happened here, I guess I finally must've lost my mind."

Jeffrey, on the other hand, watched his doppelganger as if he were keeping track of a very dangerous, very unpredictable predator that could strike at any time. He looked to the Hunter, not knowing what else to do.

"Father?", he asked, his gentle voice cutting across the silence that had fallen over the camp.

The Hunter let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Jeffrey", he gestured to his son, "This is Jeff. He'll be staying with us for awhile."

Jeffrey noticed that this Jeff didn't seem to be particularly thrilled with the concept.

**Well, folks, there you have it. Jeff and Jeffrey, hooking up. Oh, by the way, just in case anyone wasn't sure about the new characters, Umah'Geh= Umaga and Theodore= Ted Dibiase!!! You know, I was looking through my cast of doppelgangers, and I was SOOOOO pissed off, because I realized that I'd wasted Edge, Orton, and Kane by making them members of the Black Guard. I truly am an idiot. That is the worst casting EVER. Oh well. **

**By the way, for any of you who might be jonesin' for some Matt action in here, he's going to have a larger part to play fairly soon. Just letting you know, to keep you coming back for more…**

**I love reviews! Thanks for reading! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Happy belated Wrestlemania, everybody! Hope your favorite superstar won their match! ;)**

**A side-note: I've recently started watching TNA (I have to, as I am a rabid Jeff Hardy fan), and I have to say, I'm pretty damn entertained by the whole this-is-a-throwback-to-the-attitude-era thing. They run around drinking beer and swearing, and the other night during a promo, Ric Flair **_**punched **__**himself**__** in the face**_** until he bled! I have to say, it was one of the more awesome things I've seen lately. (Oh, and then there's the fact that Jeff looks just about good enough to eat. That's always nice, too.) So if you haven't given TNA a chance yet, you should. It's endlessly amusing. :)**

**Anyway, on to the reviews. Thanks to those of you who took the time; it's always appreciated.**

**Slashdlite, Jeff and Jeffrey will have more to do with each other, though you'll have to read on to see if they'll get along; as for Matt, well, you'll see…. (I know, I'm evil. I reveal nothing before its time!) ;)**

**Seraphalexiel, you're too kind. :) ROFL Emperor Matthew, Pimp Extraordinaire. Sounds like a bad reality show. He'd fit right in with those Jersey Shore people. Who knows, maybe Snookie's doppelganger will show up somewhere! Talk about pure evil… };) **

**The WWE owns all (except Jeff Hardy, who is now exclusive property of the aforementioned TNA Wrestling; Congratulations Bischoff!); I own not a damn thing (except maybe the doppelgangers, but they're based on real people, so I'm not sure they count). **

R'ei crouched down on his haunches, concealing himself in the shadows of an immense moss tree. Still and silent, he trained sharp eyes upon the leaders' tent that stood just a few yards away, at the edge of the clearing. He waited with the patience only assassins possess, his gaze unwavering, missing no small detail of the scene set before him.

There were two guards standing at the entrance to the large tent, and though they were amongst the rebels' best men, R'ei knew from the moment he'd first laid eyes on them that they would be an easy kill. They would be no match for his throwing knives.

The assassin watched the guards' mannerisms closely. They were having a whispered conversation, their weapons carelessly sheathed. They were obviously expecting no attacks in the immediate future. R'ei grimaced, cursing himself for a fool as he came to the realization that the two men were keeping watch over an empty tent.

His eyes roamed the immediate area, watching for any sign of movement. Soon, he knew, the Hunter and Lion must come here. Why else would they place their men here? His lips thinned into a hard line. R'ei glanced down at the weapons on his belt. He could end it tonight, with a flick of his wrist and two well-placed throwing knives. It would be so easy.

He let out a frustrated exhalation of air, knowing that he could do no such thing. The Hunter and the Lion would die when the emperor ordered it, and not before.

Suddenly, there was movement behind him. The gentle creaking of leather accompanied the shuffling of someone walking through dead leaves.

R'ei moved on instinct. The assassin pulled a knife from his belt and held it loosely in the palm of his hand, feeling its weight and size. He melted further into the shadows of the overhanging moss as the interloper moved clumsily through the forest, seemingly heading right for him. R'ei stood, surrounded by a pool of darkness, watching with quick, merciless eyes. Suddenly, a figure came into his view. Acting on instinct, the assassin threw his blade in a swift and graceful arc towards the intruder.

Whoever this had been, he reasoned, their death had been justified. He couldn't have allowed this peasant to return to camp and spread the word that he'd been watching the leaders' tent. He had to retain the foolish rebels' trust, if he was to remain here. Were he to be ejected from the camp or worse, interrogated, Matthew would surely have his head.

And this job was not worth dying for.

R'ei moved out of the protective shadow of the moss tree, walking cautiously towards what he was sure would be a dying man, in order to retrieve his blade. He looked around, confused. There was no one there. R'ei stared at a tree a few feet away, where he saw the knife sticking halfway out of the trunk, still vibrating with the force of the throw. The assassin, angry and frustrated, did not understand how he had missed the man, who he'd had dead to rights, and who had now seemingly vanished into thin air.

"Nice try, R'ei. But apparently, you're not as good of a shot with those things as Hunter said you are." Evan stepped out from behind the tree, smirking.

R'ei turned to face his enemy, another knife quickly and silently finding its way into his dextrous hands. He stared at the younger assassin with cold, expressionless eyes.

Evan was unperturbed. "Perhaps you'd like to try again? You just have to throw a little lower and to the left."

The younger assassin was grinning, was practically laughing at him. It enraged R'ei. "And you following me here, inviting attack, is all of this supposed to intimidate me?", he asked, his tone frigid.

Evan stepped forward, his smile gone. "R'ei, I don't play mind games. It's not my style." R'ei just glared at him. Evan ignored the man's look of seething hatred, continuing his calm tirade. "You were hiding behind a tree and staring at the leader's tent. You have no reason to be out here. You're not even on duty this time of day. So why don't you just own up to it? It's obvious what you plan to do." R'ei did not react to the accusation. This angered Evan. "Look, I don't know who you work for, and I don't care. If you leave now, and never come back, you have my word that you won't get a knife in the back on your way out of camp. But if you want to do things the hard way, well, you should know that I've beaten much better men than you." Evan watched R'ei's black eyes glint with an eager fire. He _wanted_ to fight.

R'ei didn't make any reply. Words, he realized, would be useless in this situation. He would let his actions speak for him.

Evan spotted a glint of silver in the dim forest light. He barely had time to pull his dagger and deflect the throwing knife before it landed in his throat.

The young assassin dropped into a defensive stance, brandishing two sharpened blades. R'ei stared fiercely back at him, mirroring the position.

"Alright, then", Evan said, smiling grimly, "Let's see what else you've got."

* * * * * * *

Jeff sat on a log by a roaring fire, surrounded by dozens of men, women, and children who were also enjoying the evening repast. He kept his head down and tried not to move around too much, lest he garner too much unwanted attention. He couldn't help it; he was terrified. He had no desire to speak with any of these people.

He'd been given some type of stew and a cup of water. Dully, he wondered if they'd take it away when they realized he was a prisoner. But they didn't, so he ate, quickly. The simple meal tasted amazing after eating stale, worm-infested bread for days on end.

The young Hardy glanced around with hooded eyes, before returning his gaze to the ground. The people here seemed happy. They seemed to care about each other, to be one big family.

None of this made any sense. He felt like he was on the verge of breaking, and they hadn't even done anything to him yet. No longer hungry, he put the bowl down on the ground and dropped his head into his hands. He didn't understand any of this and when it came down to it, he really didn't want to. He really just wanted to go home. When would he be allowed to go home?

"Father, what is wrong with him?", asked Jeffrey, who stood at the edge of the tree line observing his doppelganger, "What did Matthew do to him?"

Hunter sighed. He didn't want to talk about this, and certainly not with his son. And yet, he knew if anyone had a right to know, it was Jeffrey. He turned to face the younger man, who was gazing up at him with those sad, trusting green eyes. "He hurt him, my son", Hunter said quietly, "How badly, we won't know until we get a chance to speak with him. But I'd like to let him get a meal and a good night's rest first. He probably hasn't had either in quite some time."

Jeffrey nodded in acknowledgement of his father's explanation, though he continued to stare intensely at Jeff.

"Jeffrey, is something bothering you?"

The younger man shook his head. "It's just that he's so strange! Blue hair, those markings on his skin! Do you think he did all that to himself?"

"I don't know, my son", replied Hunter, "But perhaps, where he comes from, blue hair and skin paintings are normal. Perhaps we, not having colored hair or tattoos, appear strange to _him_."

"I- suppose I hadn't thought of it like that."

"You must always at least _try_ to understand the motives of others, Jeffrey", Hunter said in a serious tone of voice, "Empathy and compassion often go hand-in-hand with knowledge."

Jeffrey nodded, absorbing his father's words. After a moment, he turned towards Hunter, his pale face serious and brooding.

"May I speak with him, Father?"

"Tomorrow, my son", replied the Hunter, steering Jeffrey away from the cookfires, "Tomorrow."

* * * * * * *

Regal swallowed nervously as he looked into the magical glass. The emperor was silent, his pale skin hidden by a curtain of full, curly brown hair that fell over his downturned face. The lieutenant had delivered his weekly report, crisply, knowing that the emperor would not approve but not expecting this… silence. It was unnerving.

"You still have no trace of them, despite the fact that you left some weeks ago?", Matthew asked suddenly, his voice deceptively calm, "Tell me something, Regal. Are you incompetent, or simply doing this on purpose in an effort to incite my wrath?"

Regal struggled to maintain his composure. "My lord, I- We have searched the forest high and low, a hundred times, always we have found nothing. Even now, we comb it for any signs-"

Matthew looked bored with the explanation. "I am done with your excuses, Regal. You are finished." The older man's eyes widened at the thinly-veiled death sentence. "C'odi, Son of Dustin shall be replacing you. Perhaps _he_ shall be able to carry out my orders with a shred of intelligence."

Regal watched the glass go dark, cold shock settling thick in his gut. Of all the things he'd thought the emperor would say, he never would've thought…

He suddenly heard shuffling outside of the tent. So, they'd come for him already. Regal dropped a hand onto his broadsword, as if for reassurance. He had no intention of going to the executioner's block quietly.

He would fight.

And, if he could, he would run.

Revenge would come later.

* * * * * * *

Evan circled R'ei with cautious steps, his eyes cataloguing every nuance of his opponent's stance. The other stood watching Evan with a casual contempt. He appeared to be in no hurry to fight.

"Go ahead, R'ei", urged Evan, "Throw your knives. Prove to me that you're worthy of the title of assassin."

R'ei fingered his throwing knives. He very badly wanted to use them on this arrogant bastard, who persisted in agitating him and getting in his way.

One throw was all it would take. He was faster than Evan. He was sure that he could bypass his blades and hit him in the center of his throat. R'ei narrowed his eyes, staring at the target spot. The center of the throat. He wouldn't even be able to scream in pain as he died.

He took a deep breath. He was not here to fight this man, a man who was a confidant of the Hunter and the Lion, a man whose death could ultimately cause him problems.

Fuming, he turned and began to walk away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Where are you going?", Evan goaded, smirking, "Decided to give up already?"

R'ei continued walking. He said calmly over his shoulder, "I never give up. I simply realized that this entire affair was a waste of my time. And, though I would love to have the satisfaction of putting a blade through your throat, I am content in the knowledge that one day your blood will stain the forest floor red."

Evan watched him disappear into the early evening shadows. "Will it?", he said to himself, quietly, "Will it, indeed?"

The young assassin absentmindedly flipped his daggers over in his hands, and sheathed them. He suddenly realized that he was in dire need of a drink. With one last cautious look around the clearing, he began to make his way through the dense foliage, his steps silent and sure.

* * * * * * *

Lieutenant C'odi stood in front of a mass gathering of troops outside the borders of the darkening forest. The young officer was extremely upset, though his stiff military bearing and rigid expression did not reveal his inner turmoil. He had failed Emperor Matthew. He had allowed the traitor Regal to escape.

When they had come to the command tent to collect him for execution, the man had attacked with his giant broadsword, slaughtering soldier after soldier, men he had trained himself, served with, bled with. The ex-officer had managed to run into the woods, where C'odi prayed he would die a swift death.

Regal was now no better than the filthy rebels.

"Lieutenant?", prompted his second-in-command, a young officer named Da'anyel.

"Get them in position, Sergeant."

He nodded. "Yes sir."

As the soldiers were formed into their regimented lines, Lieutenant C'odi began to think over the orders he'd been given. The emperor had told him in no uncertain terms that he must return with the heads of the Hunter and the Lion, or not bother returning at all. He must also bring to him the boy, Jeff, though he was to be unharmed.

Any deviation from these orders would result in death. This did not perturb him in the slightest. He would, in fact, expect no less.

He stared into the trees, watchful though completely unafraid. The rebels could run, but not forever. C'odi was confident he could find them. He would hunt them down, and kill them, down to the last child.

And the boy, Jeff… He would regret ever escaping from Emperor Matthew's keep.

* * * * * * *

Jeff stifled a groan as rays of bright morning sunlight filtered into the tent. He blinked open bleary eyes, and sat up slowly, stretching the kinks out of his stiff, sore muscles. A sudden wince of unexpected pain shot across his face. Apparently, sleeping on the ground did not agree with him.

The young Hardy gazed around at the stark, empty tent. He wondered absently what type of place this was. Jeff was sure the structure hadn't been erected as a sleeping shelter; it was far too large for that.

Was it a prison, perhaps? Or, worse, an interrogation area? His breath quickened as he suddenly recalled his treatment within the walls of Matthew's fortress. He closed his eyes tight, remembering the cold eyes of his brother's nightmare twin, appraising him, staring at him as if he were a valuable piece of property. A bead of sweat began to ever-so-slowly make its way down the side of his face.

Jeff let his eyes slide open, slowly. He realized that this place did not make him feel any better about his situation. What did these strange people mean to do with him? What could they possibly want? He had a feeling he wouldn't like it when he found out. He hadn't liked much of anything about this world so far.

A thought occurred suddenly. Had they been foolish enough to leave him unguarded? Perhaps he could run…

The young Hardy pushed off the heavy wool blanket they'd provided him with, rising to his feet. He looked down at himself, wincing. He was filthy, cut, and bruised. The clothes he was wearing stank of the dungeons, and of sweat, and earth. He felt a strong urge to find fresh garments, and, if possible, a sharp weapon of some kind.

Would anyone stop him if he tried to leave? He honestly had no idea. He crept close to the entrance of the tent, stopping when he reached the flaps. Not moving or breathing, he listened closely, trying to determine if anyone was out there.

After a moment, Jeff heard shuffling directly outside, and the rattle of what must have been some type of weapon.

He cursed under his breath.

Dejected, Jeff moved back into the furthest corner of the tent. He pulled his legs tightly to his chest, in a protective manner.

So, he _was_ a prisoner again. It was just a different type of cell.

Jeff sat there, trying to ponder his situation with a clearer mind than he'd had the night before. His captors had only treated him with kindness since his arrival at the camp, which didn't seem to make any sense, and certainly didn't match up with the first impressions he'd gotten on the road.

The three men who'd grabbed him from Matthew's fortress had been cold and standoffish, barely speaking a word to him unless it was to bark an order. They had made it perfectly clear that Jeff was their prisoner, and disobedience would be punished. Jeff had been sure that the people at the camp would be the same way. But the men and women of the camp had not bothered him. After his arrival, some had hovered near, watching, undoubtedly wondering who he was and what his purpose could be. But none of them had harassed him, and Jeff appreciated that.

But all was not answered. What about the man he'd seen who could've been his brother, who could've been his _twin_, staring at him from the crowd of onlookers?

He had so many questions, and yet, he didn't expect his captors to willingly answer any of them. It was endlessly frustrating.

He just had to endure, he told himself. If he kept his head down and did as they told him, he'd be fine.

Jeff's gaze suddenly flicked over to the tent flaps, his muscles instinctively tensing up. There were footsteps outside, and voices. More men had arrived. He curled into a tighter ball as he listened to one of them ask the guard for a report. He wanted to know whether anything unusual had happened during the night. The guard said all had been quiet. He was dismissed, with thanks. This behavior confused Jeff. What kind of bloodthirsty criminals treated their people in such a polite manner?

He had no time to dwell on this. A moment later, the heavy flap was pulled back, and the Triple H look-alike entered the tent, alongside Jericho's twin.

"Good morning, Jeff", spoke "Hunter", his hands folded in front of his torso, in a conciliatory manner.

Jeff didn't reply. He stared at the ground with a hard expression, refusing to look at either of the formidable men standing before him.

"Doesn't look like he's in a sociable mood this morning", cracked "Jericho".

The young Hardy didn't reply. He watched the two men with a wary gaze, looking back and forth between their faces, the floor, and the deadly-looking blades hanging on their hips.

"You know, _boy_", smirked "Jericho", placing just enough emphasis on the designation so that it sounded like an expletive, "It's extremely rude to ignore polite attempts at conversation."

Jeff looked up at the blonde man, his green eyes narrowed in anger. "Don't call me _boy_", he said in a voice that was hoarse from disuse.

The Lion raised his hands, palms-out, in a gesture of peace. "So sorry. Won't happen again." He leaned down, bringing his face very close to Jeff's ear. He whispered, "As long as _you_ don't repeat the name you blurted out in Matthew's keep. You see, I guard my secrets very closely, Jeff. You don't _get_ to call me Chris. You haven't earned the right. Do it again, and there will be consequences." He straightened, looking down at his pale, wide-eyed prisoner. "We have an understanding?"

Jeff just nodded, looking away. He didn't notice the dark glare "Hunter" shot "Jericho".

Hunter seethed, glancing over at his smug compatriot. Damn him, and his foolish pride! The boy had somehow known his name, true, but this was not the issue that needed to be addressed right now. They needed to gain Jeff's trust. They needed to discover what the emperor wanted with him. None of that would be possible if they were whispering threats in his ear; he'd never speak to them again.

"Jeff", Hunter decided to try again, "We treated you harshly earlier. We'd like to rectify our mistake, if possible, and apologize to you."

Jeff just looked back and forth between the two men, not sure what to think. This wasn't what he'd been expecting to hear.

Hunter continued, unperturbed. "When we were fleeing Matthew's fortress, our behavior was uncharacteristically… caustic. You must understand, my friend, that fortress, and the citadel surrounding it, they are the most dangerous places on this world for us to be. We are hunted men. We needed to ensure that you would cooperate with us, and listen to our orders without fail. Had you argued with us in the hearing of Matthew's guards, or attempted to run away, you would have been captured once again. _We_ would have been captured. And the emperor is not known to be a merciful man."

Jeff wasn't buying it. "How can you stand there and apologize, when you're holding me prisoner?", he asked shakily, "Wouldn't you say that's just a bit hypocritical?"

"Chris" looked over at his compatriot, grinning. "Well, he's got us there, I suppose."

"Hunter" shot his friend a warning look. He turned back to the young Hardy, and his expression immediately softened. "You are no prisoner here, Jeff. Look around you. Do you see bars, locks, chains? This is no jail."

Jeff stood. "If I'm not a prisoner then I'll be leaving."

"Chris" snorted. "And where do you intend to go? You do know Emperor Matthew has his entire battalion out looking for you, right? You leave this camp and you're as good as captured. And they won't be as hospitable as we are, I can guarantee you that."

Jeff sat back down, misery clouding his expression. "So I _am_ a prisoner", he said quietly.

Hunter knelt before him, a poignant look upon his chiseled features. This boy reminded him so much of Jeffrey. It wasn't his appearance. There was something about his soft-spoken manner, the way he seemed to suffer so deeply and bare his emotions so openly that was so like his own son. He felt the need to comfort him, on an instinctual level.

"You are not a prisoner here. You may think of yourself as a guest in this place. You shall have full rights to move about the camp freely", the Hunter said, his rough voice as tender as it ever got. He ignored the Lion's sharp look, choosing instead to concentrate on the distraught man in front of him.

Jeff stared at the Triple H look-alike, uncomprehending. Why would these men risk their lives to bring him here, only to allow him unfettered access to the campgrounds? Jeff felt his anger mounting quickly. He didn't understand his place; was he a prisoner, or not?

"Why did you bring me here?", asked Jeff, looking "Hunter" in the eye, "What do you want with me?"

"That is a long story, my young friend", replied the older man, "One that may be best told over breakfast. Come, and we shall eat."

Jeff was relieved that food had been suggested. He hadn't eaten much the night before, and he was starving. Without a word, he followed the two men out of the tent and into the bright morning sunshine.

It didn't take long for the three of them to come upon the communal cook fires, where the camp was bustling with morning activity.

The rebel leaders led their guest over to an elderly gentleman, who was dishing out a cold, gruel-like substance into wooden bowls. Jeff tried to hide his look of distaste as he studied the grayish, lumpy concoction, though he finally just resigned himself to eating it, as his stomach was churning in hunger.

"Hunter", "Jericho", and Jeff took their gruel and sat on the edge of the campsite, beneath an ancient oak.

"It's really beautiful here", Jeff said softly, looking out into the sun-dappled forest. The young Hardy couldn't help but feel at ease in such a setting, despite the fact that he didn't quite trust these men. He leaned against the thick trunk of the tree, munching thoughtfully on his breakfast. Surprisingly, the strange lumpy gruel wasn't that bad. It tasted kind of like cream of wheat.

"It is our home", said "Hunter", "We have fought hard to protect it, though we have much work yet to do. Matthew seems to grow stronger with each passing day."

"Maybe you'll tell me who you people are, now", Jeff prompted, feeling slightly bolder now that he'd slept and gotten some actual, decent food in his stomach.

"You first", grumbled Jericho's twin, before shoveling a heaping spoonful of gruel into his mouth.

"Triple H" shot a dark glare at his companion. "Jericho" ignored him, choosing instead to concentrate on the consumption of his breakfast.

"They call me the Hunter", "Triple H" said, "He is known as the Lion. For many years, we have led the common people, the ones without voices, in a never-ending fight against the emperor's tyranny. It has been our lives' work."

Jeff stared. _These_ were the men that the condemned prisoners had talked of in adoring, worshipful tones? _These_ were the famous rebel leaders that Emperor Matthew had spent years of his life trying, and failing, to track down? _Hunter_ and _Chris_ were this world's last hope for salvation? Jeff took a deep breath, in an effort to stop mad laughter from bubbling past his lips.

"Jeff?", asked the Hunter, looking genuinely concerned, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine", he said, looking away. His gaze grew serious suddenly, as a new thought occurred to him. His eyes met the stoic glance of the Hunter. "I want to know why I'm here. If you have bad intentions towards me, I want to know about them. I deserve that much, at least."

"A fair request", replied the Hunter, nodding, "The first thing I feel I must make perfectly clear to you, Jeff, is that we do not wish to harm you, nor would we ever. Matthew is the enemy. His minions are enemies. You, child, are not. You must understand this. I hope that you will come to trust us in the ensuing days." Hunter paused to take a bite of his breakfast, trying to gauge Jeff's reaction to his words as he did so. The younger man sat, unmoving, outwardly emotionless. Inwardly sighing, Hunter continued, "Now, you wanted to know the reason why we brought you here. It was because rebels disguised as servants in the fortress had sent us new intelligence. It said that Matthew was very interested in one of his new prisoners. You. We knew nothing of your identity, or the reason for your capture. It honestly didn't matter for our purposes. We had to liberate you, because it was possible that you _could_ be the lynchpin for the emperor's next scheme. Allowing that to happen would not only be disastrous, it would be foolish."

Jeff took a breath. Every word of it made sense. And these men didn't seem like they wanted to do him harm. He didn't want to trust them. He couldn't. Not yet.

The Lion stared hard at Jeff. "Now, we've told you who we are. I believe it is time for you to return the courtesy. There are many strange things about you, things that just don't fit. We want to know why. We want to know who you are, and we want to know where you come from." He smiled his crooked smile, though it did not reach his eyes. "Feel free to start from the beginning."

Jeff sighed tiredly. Despite the beautiful morning and the warm sun on his back, he felt a chill run through his body. "I'll tell you", he said in a defeated voice, "But you won't believe me."

"Try us", the Lion said flatly.

"I'm not from here. I was brought here, by force." Jeff rubbed at his forehead. He didn't want to talk about this. "A bunch of guys in black armor surrounded me in my home one day, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a cell." The young Hardy didn't miss the looks of alarm that passed between the two men when he mentioned the black armor.

"What?", he asked, sitting up straighter, "What's wrong?"

"The Black Guard", answered the Hunter thoughtfully, "The emperor's personal bodyguards, and the deadliest of the warriors he employs. If he sent _them_ to retrieve you, you must have special significance to him."

Jeff looked alarmed at this new revelation.

"Did you have personal contact with the emperor while you were held prisoner there?", asked Hunter, changing the subject.

"Yeah", Jeff said, suddenly quiet.

"What happened? Did he ask you questions? Did he tell you anything?"

"He wanted to know all about the culture where I come from. The food we eat, the clothes we wear, what we find interesting, what we find entertaining. He interrogated me for hours. Then, he sent me back to the cells."

"And he never told you anything else of import?", prompted the Hunter.

Jeff's face sagged. "Yeah. He told me the reason I'd been brought here was to die. He said he was going to kill me, though he didn't say why." The young Hardy shook his head, remembering the creeping dread of awaiting a death sentence that he could not escape. He continued, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I think you guys ended up getting me out of there just before he planned on dropping the knife."

The rebel leaders exchanged confused glances. Why would Matthew go to such lengths to kidnap this boy, when he simply intended to kill him? It made no sense.

The Hunter decided to start back at the beginning. Perhaps there, he might begin to untangle this mess. "You say you were brought here by force. From where?"

The young Hardy's eyes grew distant for a moment. "Earth." The answer was simple, quiet, and to the point. It meant nothing to either inquisitor.

"There is no such place, Jeff", said the Lion, who was rapidly growing impatient.

Jeff's flat gaze met the Lion's fiery blue stare. "Yeah, there is", he replied numbly, "Earth is another world. It's my home."

The Lion rolled his eyes. "Oh, gods, please! Tell me another one! He's out of his mind, Hunter!"

"You don't believe me?", Jeff hissed, suddenly angry, "Frankly, I couldn't give a shit about you, or your people, or your fucked-up world. I certainly couldn't care less if you believe in Earth or not. I just want to go home, and pretend that all of this never happened." A defeated look crossed the young Hardy's face as he seemed to come to a realization suddenly. "But I can't. I'm fucking stuck here, because Emperor Matthew and the _Black_ _fucking Guard_ brought me over! Matthew'll never send me back! Oh Christ, how am I going to get home?..." The thought of being trapped in this place forever terrified him.

Hunter dropped a hand onto Jeff's quaking shoulder. "We'll find a way to help you", he said in a soothing tone, "You're no longer alone here. We'll find a way to help. It will be alright…"

Jeff stared at a shifting patch of sunlight on the forest floor, his eyes unfocused. He began to speak in a soft and absent tone, as if he didn't completely realize what he was saying. "Do you know what one of the first things I saw was when I first arrived on this world? It was the emperor's sidekick. Marckus. Big motherfucker. He looks exactly like a friend of mine from Earth, name of Mark. I mean, _exactly_. Change his clothes, and they could be twins. Same thing with a lot of the people I've come across here. Evan, Shainen, even you two. And Matthew…" He took an unsteady breath. "Matthew looks exactly like my brother, Matt." Tears began to slowly leak out of Jeff's eyes. "You have to understand where I'm coming from. Matt's a good man, and it destroys me, seeing that piece of shit wearing his face. It's like Matthew's mocking my brother, every time he opens his mouth." Jeff looked back and forth between the rebel leaders, and saw doubt written clearly on their faces. A defiant glare slowly crept onto his face, daring them to challenge his word.

"Oh come on!", said the Lion suddenly, "This is too much! Another world? Magical twins? Are you kidding me?"

Jeff stood, every muscle in his body tensed, his green eyes narrowed in anger. "You are a real piece of shit, you know that?", he spat.

"So I've been told." The Lion sat leaning against the tree, a wide smirk painted on his face, every inch of him radiating unruffled arrogance.

Jeff glared down at him. He sneered up at Jeff. The uncomfortable moment stretched on for far too long. Finally, Hunter had had enough.

"You imply that Jeff must be lying, Lion, but why?", asked the Hunter, "We both know that magic is a force beyond most men's comprehension, my friend. Its mysterious effects are often more far-reaching than any of us really know. I don't see why such a world and its people could not exist, perhaps on another plane from our own. We have seen stranger things in our lives, after all."

The Lion looked annoyed now. Perhaps he was feeling outnumbered, or outmatched. He opened his mouth to throw out a biting retort.

Before he could get a word out, however, a familiar voice called out to the assembled gathering.

"Good morning!", Jeffrey greeted, waving. He paused several feet away, perhaps sensing some of the palpable tension in the air. "May I join you?", he asked, unsure.

The Hunter beamed. "Good morning, son! Come, sit." He gestured the boy over.

Jeff watched his twin's approach with a strange anxiety that he couldn't fight off no matter how he tried. He couldn't help it; it was just something about seeing a walking, talking mirror image of himself. It was making him feel strange, dizzy, like he had vertigo. Not a pleasant feeling at all.

Nonetheless, Jeff took this moment to study his double. He noted that he was dressed in the simple, cotton clothing of the peasants, not the layered leather armor worn by the warriors of the camp. The boy was obviously no fighter. He wore his dark blonde hair long. It blew free about his face in the warm morning breeze, unkempt, as if he couldn't be bothered to give it a thought. Everything about him seemed to speak of a gentle, carefree demeanor.

"Good morning, Father. Hello, Lion", Jeffrey greeted, smiling a gentle smile. His shy gaze flicked over to Jeff, before returning to his elders.

"Morning, Jeffrey", replied the Lion, grinning, "You been practicing your parries and thrusts? We've got another lesson tomorrow, you know."

"I've been practicing", said the younger man, who was trying his best to keep his eyes on the Lion and off of their strange guest, "I found a sparring partner."

The Lion rolled his eyes. "Oh gods, who is it? Is he screwing with my technique? Don't listen to him, whatever you do. Undoubtedly, he knows nothing."

"Well, um, it's my father."

The Hunter was watching the Lion, an amused smirk painted on his chiseled features. Jeffrey was laughing quietly behind his slender hand.

The Lion scowled. "Oh, shut up, you two." A smile was quirking his lips.

The Hunter smiled. "Jeffrey, you haven't had a chance to formally meet our guest yet. This is Jeff."

Green eyes locked to green eyes.

"Welcome to our home", Jeffrey said shyly, as if he weren't sure of his words.

"Um, thanks", Jeff said, unabashedly staring. It was too strange, looking into his own eyes and seeing someone else there.

For a long moment, there was only silence, as the two men acclimated themselves to the situation.

Jeffrey recovered first. "May I ask you a question?", he asked, his tone unfailingly polite and pleasant.

Jeff nodded in response.

"These markings on your skin. Did you paint them on yourself? And what about the color of your hair? Is it an illusion spell?"

"Jeffrey-", cautioned the Hunter in a gentle tone.

Jeff smiled at the rebel leader. "No, no, it's fine. I don't mind." He looked to Jeffrey. "Where I'm from, it's fairly commonplace to get pictures permanently placed onto your skin. You go to an artist, who uses a machine with different colored inks inside and a needle on the end. The needle pushes the ink into your skin. It usually takes a few hours, but at the end of that, the picture'll be on your skin for life."

Jeffrey winced. "It's painful, then?"

"Yeah", shrugged Jeff, "But so is anything worthwhile, I guess."

"How long did that one take?", Jeffrey asked, pointing at Jeff's arm. Jeff's doppelganger seemed to be in awe of the very concept of tattooing.

"I had to sit through several sessions for that", replied Jeff, "But it turned out nicely, yeah?" He smiled at the other man.

Jeffrey grinned, and nodded.

"They're getting on well", whispered the Hunter as he watched his son laugh with his mysterious twin.

"Yeah, you'd better watch it, Hunter", replied the Lion with a smirk, "One day, you're gonna come home from the hunt and Jeffrey's gonna have a set of skin paintings himself. He looked a bit too enamored with the concept."

The older man shot his compatriot a dirty look.

Their quiet conversation was suddenly interrupted by Evan, who came running towards them from the direction of the camp.

"Hey", the young assassin panted, looking uncharacteristically flustered, "I have to talk to you two." He made a motion with his head, unsubtly beckoning them towards the treeline.

The Lion sighed, and followed.

"Jeffrey", said the Hunter, "I must speak with Evan and the Lion. Can you entertain our guest while I'm gone?"

"Yes, Father", he replied. He turned back to Jeff. "You were telling me about your hair. What is this 'Manic Panic'?"

Beneath the sheltering canopy of the forest trees, the Hunter, the Lion, and Evan stood in grim conference.

"Are you sure you saw what you saw?", asked the Lion.

Evan's eyes flashed angrily. "God dammit, listen to me! I'm telling you this to save your sorry lives! Last night, I followed R'ei, because I had a feeling something wasn't right. My instincts were correct. He went straight for your tent, and hid out in the foliage, waiting. When I confronted him, he tried to kill me! You need to nip this in the bud, and get rid of him, before he kills you in your sleep!"

"Calm down, Evan." The Lion rolled his eyes.

"God damn you, he's probably hiding out there right now, stalking you, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slit your throat!"

"If ever there was a perfect opportunity, this would be it. We are, after all, far from camp, and only three men", said the Hunter dryly, "No, I believe we are alone here." He turned to his compatriot. "This is a fortuitous opportunity to discover if he is working alone, if he was sent by Matthew, or if he is working for someone else we don't know about."

"I agree", nodded the Lion, "We'll have to gather R'ei up." He sighed. "That's going to be an immense pain in the ass."

The Hunter smiled. "I have confidence that Evan can take care of it. Now, let us return to camp. We have much to do today."

* * * * * * *

Emperor Matthew strode out of the candlelit library, a heavy, worn tome clutched tightly under his arm. He looked left, then right. There was only an empty hallway. The distant sound of the ever-burning pit-fires punctuated the silence with a steady, grinding drone.

"Marckus", he breathed.

"My liege?" The dark mage appeared out of the black and twisting shadows beneath the torchlight.

"The search for Jeffrey does not go well", Matthew said, his cold voice echoing, "My patience is almost at an end."

"You have decided to take matters into your own hands, my lord?", asked the mage, eyeing the spellbook with no judgment or derision.

"I have an idea that will speed things up", replied Matthew, who handed the large book over to Marckus. The mage noticed that one of the pages had been marked for him.

"An idea, my lord?"

"Open the book."

Marckus did so. A cross-dimensional teleportation spell. The mage looked at the emperor, confusion written on his chiseled features.

"My liege, one must know their destination to teleport in and out. This spell would be useless to us. If you are looking for spells that could help us take Jeffrey back, I could find-"

Matthew raised his hand, stopping the mage. "I do not wish to use the spell to take Jeffrey. I wish to use it to procure some type of leverage that will force Jeffrey to come back to _us_." A slow smile spread across his face. "Didn't Jeffrey say he had a brother?"

Marckus smiled. Indeed, his lord was wise.

**Look out behind you, Matt, it's a doppelganger! Boy, this plot's getting thicker than pea soup. Jeff's safe, but for how long? Will Evan be able to squash R'ei? Will C'odi's army find the rebels? And what the hell ever happened to Regal? Find out next time.**

**Reviews would be nice….. :) (really nice.)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Uh oh, everybody, we've come to (un)lucky chapter 13. That means it's time for the shit to hit the fan. Matt fans, rejoice, because this is the chapter that Jeffro's older bro becomes an integral part of the plot. William Regal fans? Anyone? Well, if you're out there, rejoice, because he's gonna get some screen time too. (I just love Regal; I can't help myself.) Jeff fans? You need to start throwing a party right now, because you're getting _two_ Jeffs for the price of one! I'll tell you, there's something for everyone in this story… :)**

**I'm really sorry for the ridiculous amount of time it took me to update this. But, as I always say, life intervenes. I'm really happy to be working on this again, though; I missed this story.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You complete me. ;)**

**As always, I own nothing. You could say I own the doppelgangers, but they're based off of real people, so I'd feel ridiculous claiming them. WWE owns most of the wrestlers in here; Jeff Hardy is property of TNA wrestling. (Maybe I'll have to start throwing some TNA doppelgangers into the mix, too... grins evilly) Until something changes, I guess Matt Hardy's a free agent again. :)**

Matt Hardy lay on his bed, limbs spread carelessly about, his glazed eyes fixed on the featureless white ceiling above him. The room was dark, illuminated only by the silver half-light of the North Carolina moon.

Matt found that he was far more comfortable dwelling in darkness these days. He much preferred solitude to the company of friends.

Limp fingers surrounded a near-empty bottle of whiskey, a companion to the empty beer bottles scattered about the nightstand and the floor.

He'd been lying there for hours now in an anguished, drunken haze, thoughts of his missing brother weighing heavy on his alcohol-soaked mind. The police had all but given up hope of finding Jeff alive at this point, though Matt couldn't accept that. He wouldn't.

Jeff was smart, he was resourceful. He was a fighter. So why was everyone so convinced that his little brother was dead? Shannon, Shane, even their own father all seemed to be in mourning. Weeping for the dead when they should have been out searching for the living.

Matt took a deep, shuddering breath as he recalled, for the thousandth time, the appearance of his brother's art studio the night he'd disappeared. The shattered window, the frigid winter air whipping through the room, the paint spattered on the walls, the torn canvases, the blood…

It pained him to recall the violence of that scene.

Matt raised his head, and took a long, deep swig of whiskey, finishing it off. When he was done, he carelessly dropped the empty bottle onto the floor and resumed his bleary-eyed appraisal of the ceiling.

Had he been sober, he might have noticed the man suddenly standing at the foot of his bed.

"Matt." His name, whispered roughly in the heavy silence, caused the dark-haired Hardy to shoot up and look around wildly. After a moment, his wide-eyed gaze settled on the imposing, shadowy figure before him.

Matt squinted, peering into the darkness, trying to bring the black mass into focus. "What the fuck-", he drawled, speech slurring.

The shadows moved, and the older Hardy heard a bottle roll across the hardwood floor. "I would have expected to find a man of stronger character, considering you are my lord's doppelganger. But here you lie, slowly poisoning yourself. Smelling of ale and filth, like a lowly beggar in the streets." The low, rough voice sounded angry, and extremely dangerous. And, he realized with a start, disturbingly familiar. "How very pathetic."

Matt stared. He had no idea what this person was talking about. "Call me whatever you want, man", he replied forlornly, not caring that he was having a conversation with a shadowy stranger who had broken into his room in the middle of the night, "I don't give a shit. I don't care about anything anymore."

"That's painfully obvious."

The ghostly being took a sudden step forward, into the moonlight, startling the older Hardy, causing him to scramble backwards into the wall.

Matt looked up at the daunting man who stood there, staring down at him with cold, emotionless eyes. He suddenly realized why that voice had sounded so familiar.

"Mark?", he said softly, eyes wide as he took in the older man's strange appearance.

It was, indeed, the Undertaker glaring down at Matt. And yet, it wasn't. Something was off. The older Hardy saw Mark's thin lips curling into a derisive sneer, his fists clenching and unclenching in a show of barely-contained aggression, his eyes narrowed-

Matt shrank back. His eyes! They were white, dead milky white, as if he were blind. And yet, it was obvious to the older Hardy that the intruder could see him perfectly. This man was not the Mark Calloway he knew; something was very wrong here.

"Who the hell are you?", Matt said quietly.

The strange man's lip curled in a cruel parody of a smile. "Who I am doesn't matter, Matt", he replied, "I am simply a pawn in the scheme of things, fodder for the rebels' spears. But you…" His cold smile widened. "You serve a greater purpose."

"What are you talking about?", Matt said slowly, pushing himself back into the wall, and as far away from the Undertaker look-alike as he could.

"Come, we must go", said Marckus, proferring his hand, "Your brother is waiting for us. But we haven't much time."

Matt's breath stopped. He felt as if he'd taken a blow to the gut, hard and low. "What did you say?", he breathed, staring at the older man with wide, bloodshot eyes.

Marckus let out a sharp, impatient sigh. "Jeff is waiting. We must go."

"You actually know where my brother is?", he asked in a desperate, quivering voice.

The older man smirked, and held out his hand once more. "You shall not know unless you come with me."

Matt took his hand after only a moment's hesitation.

As they disappeared into a patch of darkness, Marckus grinned to himself. That had been much easier than expected. Matt had not even put up a fight.

The Emperor would be pleased.

[xxxxx]

Will Regal stumbled through the twilit forest, exhausted but knowing that stopping to rest would mean death for him now. He had no choice but to force himself onwards.

He paused for a moment to look at his surroundings, trying to gauge how far his pursuers were from his position. He could see nothing but trees and underbrush in all directions. He strained to hear anything in the heavy silence, but the only sounds were his own ragged breaths and the occasional scampering of a small animal beneath the foliage.

Bending down, Regal put his ear to the fresh soil. At first, he heard nothing. Then, like a great heart beating underground, there were the rumbling vibrations that signaled a small army on the move. Scowling, he got to his feet again and continued forward, not knowing exactly where he was headed. He realized, from the overgrown vegetation and dim light, that he was moving deeper into the forest, into unknown territory. Losing his way was the least of his concerns, however. He needed to focus on ridding himself of the men who were hunting him.

Regal kept to the heavy foliage, and stepped with extreme care. He was a seasoned tracker and hunter, and he had spent many years tromping through this forest in pursuit of the rebels. He knew that his skill and experience should give him an advantage over C'odi's men. Ignoring the onset of fatigue and remaining focused on the task at hand would allow him to disappear into the forest, never to be seen again. If the damned rebels could accomplish such a feat, then he certainly could.

Pausing every so often to listen to the progress of the troops, Regal adjusted his route accordingly, zig-zagging and circling around to throw them off. As tedious as it was, he did his best to wipe out any footprints left in the soil, carrying a stick and scattering the dirt until it appeared clean and untouched. To further cover his trail, he dropped leaves or small twigs over the path.

He was taking extra care as he laid his footfalls and covered his tracks. He had trained many of Matthew's soldiers, teaching them how to track the most elusive enemy down in the wilderness. They would know his tricks, and he knew they would find him if he didn't stay sharp.

Pondering for a moment, he decided that he'd double back for a mile or so, then climb a tree and wait until the sun set. Armies rarely marched after nightfall. His pursuers would undoubtedly make camp and rest; he'd have the entire night to find his way out of this abysmal forest. Their slumber would, hopefully, mean his freedom. Regal, having determined his course, turned to walk the way he'd come. He took two steps, before being halted by the unmistakable prod of a dagger in the small of his back.

"Hands up." The voice was rough and commanding.

Regal slowly raised his hands, his eyes scanning the forest. There was no movement, no sound. Only the piercing threat of a knife in his back, and the encroaching dread that soon, C'odi's men would be upon him.

He felt his unknown captor disarming him, pulling off his sword belt, going for his gauntlets. Smart. This man knew any seasoned fighter would probably conceal a dagger in his gauntlet.

He whistled suddenly, an unpleasant, high-pitched tone that set Regal's teeth on edge.

Moments later, another guard appeared from out of the brush. Regal was astounded. Where the hell had he come from? He realized that whoever these men were, they probably had more armed guards hiding all over the area, crouching in the trees and beneath the underbrush. Regal took in their garb. It was drab brown, a color that would mix perfectly with soil and tree bark. They could've been hiding anywhere, he realized. But what could they possibly be guarding, out in the middle of this wild forest?

"Yeah?", the younger guard asked the man holding Regal, "What do you need?"

"Check his boots", replied the other, holding tightly to Regal's arms, "And be thorough. This one's going directly to the generals themselves."

"_Generals_…", Regal's stomach dropped out. He struggled to keep his face emotionless as the realization of where he was suddenly struck him, hard. Eluding C'odi's men for hours had given him the mistaken impression that his luck was improving when, in fact, it had led him straight into the center of rebel territory. These men knew who he was, and they knew what he'd done while under Matthew's command. He was fully aware that there would be no mercy shown him by any rebel, once he entered the boundaries of their accursed camp.

The young guard stared, wide-eyed. "Why?", he asked, "The generals said prisoners were to be taken to Evan-"

Regal scowled when the man's grip on his arms tightened. "This ain't no ordinary prisoner, boy", he replied in his rough voice, "This here is the Emperor's Lieutenant himself. Now hurry up and check his damn boots for weapons!"

He said nothing and offered no resistance as his boots were emptied of two more daggers. He looked away from the rebel bastard rooting through his footwear. He realized that he was feeling very… conflicted. He'd been exiled from Matthew's court after years of loyal service, for no reason other than the emperor's petulant impatience. Had Matthew's orders been carried out to the letter, he'd have died a most horrible death. That did not mean, however, that he suddenly agreed with rebel principles. He hated the Hunter and the Lion. He'd spent half his life chasing after them, and, once again, they had made him look the fool.

But he couldn't suppress the growing anticipation, even excitement, he began to feel as he caught a glimpse of a campfire through the dense growth of trees. He was finally going to see the rebel base, to talk with his enemies, face to face. He'd dreamed of this moment for years. It was a shame he had to experience it as a prisoner.

"Let's go, Lieutenant Regal", said the large man gripping his arms. He pushed him forward, deeper into the forest.

It somehow seemed fitting that his life would end here, in this thrice-damned camp of castoffs and peasants. He'd given years of his life trying to find this place, after all. Now, in the end, he'd finally managed to discover it by accident. How poetic. How tragic.

Regal said nothing, offered no resistance. He'd save his words for the Hunter and the Lion.

The three of them, after all, had much to discuss.

[xxxxxxx]

The Hunter crouched in a high thicket out beyond the borders of the camp, his eyes searching the forest for any signs of movement. If the other men keeping silent watch around him thought his presence was odd, they said nothing. He was grateful for their unspoken acceptance. After all, joining them in guard duty was a welcome diversion from the stresses of his position, and he desperately needed that right now, in a time when Matthew's chaotic rule was threatening their way of life.

Hunter let his gaze roam the tranquil forest, an unending stretch of dimly-lit greens and browns that eventually passed beyond his sight, into shadow. He narrowed his eyes in an effort to pierce the gloom, though he eventually came to realize that he was surrounded on all sides by impenetrable darkness. Each day, it seemed, that darkness grew.

Men were dying in Matthew's prisons, they were being captured for interrogation in the streets of the citadel. He had heard varied reports of torture, and even grisly public executions. The sadistic emperor was obviously trying to send a message to him and Lion.

"_These are your people", _Matthew would say in an even, unhurried tone. Hunter could picture his cruel eyes, a smug half-smile twisting his thick lips. "_If you wish this to stop, Hunter, come to my keep, and face me_."

Hunter closed his eyes and released a long, loose breath. He sent out a silent prayer for the souls suffering in the cells below Matthew's keep. His heart wrenched as his thoughts turned involuntarily to his deceased wife, Stefany, who had died in the Cells of the Damned. Her death had not been an easy one. How many others were languishing in Matthew's prisons, waiting to die? The thought sickened him.

Someday soon, Hunter knew, he would ride in and free them.

But there was much to do before the rebels overtook Matthew's stronghold.

He'd learned enough to know that times of war and death either defined great leaders, or destroyed them utterly. Hunter would define himself as the man who, along with the Lion, led his people to victory. He would watch them prosper, and live out in the open, freely, without fear.

And, when he was ready, Jeffrey would take the throne. He would use everything he'd been taught, and rule with wisdom, and justice.

Hunter had prepared him well. Jeffrey would be a good king.

The rebel leader smiled as his thoughts turned to his son. Jeffrey had excitedly informed him earlier that morning that he was going to teach Jeff to parry and thrust so that he'd have a regular sparring partner. Hunter smiled affectionately, thinking of his shy boy.

Jeffrey and Jeff, it seemed, had become fast friends since their first meeting. Jeffrey, in his naivete, was enraptured by Jeff's seemingly unending store of fantastical tales about his life as a famous entertainer. Jeff, on the other hand, seemed fascinated by the simplest things, things that Jeffrey had always taken for granted, such as magic, or fairies. Jeffrey did not understand Jeff's wonderment at such silly things, but Hunter did. This was a new world to Jeffrey's strange twin. Undoubtedly, it would take time for him to adjust.

The big man stifled a sigh, pondering the young stranger who wore his son's face. Hunter realized that he had come to like Jeff, a great deal. Intelligent and charming, the boy could converse for hours about anything, really; from politics to weapons to clothing, nothing seemed uninteresting to him. He seemed, in many ways, as kind and gentle as Jeffrey, and that warm demeanor, he knew, had already endeared him to many in the camp.

And Jeff was a friend to Jeffrey. His presence seemed to make his boy happy. That, in itself, was enough to make Hunter partial to the young stranger.

Though… The big man sighed and wearily shut his eyes for a moment. His trust had never been won easily, he knew, and it would be no different with Jeff.

The rebel furrowed his brow, deep in thought. There were, he realized with frustration, far too many unanswered questions nagging at him, questions that would soon need answering.

He still hadn't been able to determine why Matthew wanted Jeff so _badly_; the wide-reaching network of spies and informants he employed for such matters had been unable to tell him anything about the boy or the emperor's possible plans for him. It had begun to wear at him, this complete lack of information.

The one thing Hunter _did_ know, however, was that any plot of Matthew's could only mean devastation for the peaceful, free people of this land. He would not allow the twisted emperor to win this war, not after all of the suffering his people had endured.

It was all the more reason why they needed to keep Jeff hidden, at all costs.

And all the more reason why they desperately needed to find out what Matthew was doing in that fortress of his.

The big man rubbed at his forehead, trying desperately to stave off a headache.

Hunter scowled as he thought about the reports he'd been receiving over the past week. Scouts had told him that the emperor's lieutenant and a great host of men were moving deeper and deeper into the woods, farther than they'd ever ventured before. This was no ordinary raid. Matthew's soldiers were coming after the boy. They would not stop hunting until they found him.

Hunter rubbed at his eyes, forcing back a weary sigh.

"_Why are you so important to him, Jeff?_", he wondered, staring out at the silent forest.

The only reply he received was the crackle of soft footfalls over dead leaves, moving in his direction. Hunter watched as Evan stepped up next to the thicket he was hiding in and leaned easily against a nearby tree.

"Avoiding camp business, Hunter?", the young assassin asked, looking down at his hands. He was delicately picking small bits of dirt from beneath his middle fingernail with a throwing knife.

The rebel leader walked out of the brush, looking extremely annoyed. "Perhaps I am, Evan", he replied shortly. He began to walk back towards the camp, indicating that the younger man should follow him. Evan did so, without comment. "What are you doing out here?", Hunter asked after a moment, "Did you find R'ei?"

Evan glanced at Hunter, before instinctually returning his gaze to the surrounding forest. Dropping his guard would be foolish. He knew that Matthew's men were out in the trees, somewhere, waiting and watching.

"I didn't find him, _yet_", Evan replied, frowning, "Though, it's only a matter of time. I'm sure he's hiding out somewhere close to here."

Hunter raised an incredulous eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

Evan grinned. "Call it assassin's instinct. Trust me, he's still here. Maybe he plans on killing some rebels to impress whoever hired him, or to collect a big pay-day. Either way, that cocky son of a bitch won't be able to resist the challenge."

"Can you track him down, Evan?"

The young assassin's grin widened. "Count on it."

"Then I suggest you get back out there. The sun is going down, and it's always best to hunt at night, yes?"

Evan nodded. He started to move off, before turning back. "By the way, when I left, the camp was buzzing about a new prisoner that had been brought in. I don't know who it was or why everyone seemed so excited, but-"

"I'll take care of it. Thank you, Evan."

Evan nodded, before moving silently off into the trees.

Hunter did the same, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in his gut.

Something was stirring. He could feel it.

[xxxxxxx]

The young soldier ran at full speed through the dense trees, his soft leather boots making little noise upon the forest floor. He darted in and out of the shadows, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Pausing for a moment, he cocked his ear, trying to determine if he'd been followed. He heard nothing but the ever-present din of the forest, birds chirping and warbling, and small animals scraping and scurrying upon the ground.

Satisfied, the soldier ran on, excitement building as he grew ever closer to the army's makeshift encampment. He had staggering news to impart, news that would undoubtedly earn him a commendation, and Lieutenant C'odi praise from the emperor himself.

Coming upon the edge of the camp, he saw the men milling about, and the cook fires. He suddenly wondered what the lieutenant would say to him. How would his news be received?

Slowing to a brisk jog, he passed the men who were sitting down to eat. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't had a bite all day. He promised himself two helpings of the hearty venison stew he smelled simmering, once he'd seen the lieutenant.

The young soldier came to the officer's tent. Two burly guards stood on either side of the entrance, spears in hand. They scowled at him as he approached.

"I need to see the lieutenant", he said, "I was sent to scout the eastern reaches, and I found something of great importance."

One of the behemoths growled, low in his throat, "Lieutenant C'odi's having his dinner now. Come back later."

"He will wish to hear about this immediately-"

The other guard stepped forward, his great meaty hands balled into fists. "Can't you hear?", he ground out, "Come back later."

"But-"

"What is going on out here?", C'odi stood at the doorway of the tent, a black glare on his young face.

The soldier stepped forward, not giving either of the guards a chance to speak. "I have most important news, my lord. It concerns the rebels, and the missing traitor, Regal."  
C'odi stared at the young soldier for a moment, his face oddly expressionless. He turned to his giant guards.

"You barred him entrance?", the lieutenant asked evenly.

"My lord", replied one of the guards desperately, "You said you had no wish to be disturbed-"

"Unless it was of _importance_, fool!", screamed C'odi, his face twisting in rage. "This soldier has information about the damned rebels, and you refused to let him in because you were afraid it would put me off of my dinner? Imbeciles! I swear to you, if I lose the Hunter and the Lion because of your ineptness, I will have both of your bloody heads!"

Furious, he swept back into the large tent, motioning for the young soldier to join him.

Ignoring the glares he received from the two guards, he followed, pushing past the heavy, animal-skin flap. Upon entering, the soldier discovered a tent with all the amenities one might need, should they find themselves commanding a small legion of men in hostile territory. A bedroll lay upon the floor in the far corner, neatly stowed away. A host of maps lay scattered about, a riot of ink and dirty parchment. The young soldier stared, his eyes narrowing slightly. Those maps were crumpled, torn. Destroyed.

The emperor was obviously placing more pressure on his newly-appointed lieutenant, judging from the state of the tent. Undoubtedly, Matthew was tired of waiting for his soldiers to produce the Hunter and Lion out of thin air. It appeared that, at some point during the day, the young lieutenant had scattered parchments and clothing all over the ground, as if in a fit of frustrated rage.

"You said you had news", C'odi said, pulling the soldier from his subtle inspection of the tent, "Private-?"

"J'uus T'in, Son of G'aab R'yel."

C'odi crossed the floor, kicking errant papers out of his way. There was a large, down-stuffed pillow lying near the open firepit. C'odi sat down heavily on the comfortable padding, allowing the warmth of the low-burning flames to wash over him. He stared up at the other man expectantly.

"Tell me."

J'uus T'in shifted uncomfortably under the lieutenant's fierce gaze.

"I-" He took a breath, realizing that his voice was unsteady. "My lord, this morning Sergeant Brya'an sent me to the eastern reaches, to scout for rebel activity. Most of the day was uneventful. But as I was preparing to return to camp, I heard men talking. I followed the sound, and saw, to my astonishment, the traitor Regal, in the grip of two strange men. I watched as the men disarmed him; one of them was holding his arms tightly to prevent his escape, though it didn't seem necessary. Regal wasn't really fighting them. Anyway, the two men quarreled over what was to be done with him, until finally the older of the two put his foot down and said that he was to be taken 'directly to the generals'."

C'odi watched the younger man speak with increasing interest, his eyes growing wide. "The generals?"

J'uus T'in nodded. "Yes, my lord. Will Regal is with the Hunter and the Lion, I'm sure of it."

"Ah, but just how _sure_ are you?", C'odi regarded the young soldier, his gaze cold, "Sure enough to place your skinny neck upon the emperor's chopping block? Emperor Matthew does not tolerate failure, Private J'uus T'in, and he does not tolerate lies. It is why he is a great man." The lieutenant rose, his cruel gaze never leaving the young soldier's face. "A great man, but merciless in his retribution. Are you ready to stand in the path of his anger, should we find nothing?"

Private J'uus T'in replied softly, "Forgive my impertinence, lord, but what would he say about you remaining in this comfortable tent when one of your soldiers has seen rebel defenses with his own eyes? When we are so close to tracking down Regal?" He took a steadying breath, ignoring C'odi's furious glare. "I mean no disrespect. I simply mean to say that I am quite confident of what I saw today, and I will stand behind it, even if it means that there are consequences for me in the end."

C'odi stared. "Very well", he conceded after a moment, "But it is your misstep to make. If we find an empty campground, the finger shall be pointed firmly in your direction."

Private J'uus T'in swallowed nervously, before nodding in acknowledgement.

"Now", C'odi continued, his voice adapting the clipped, authoritative tone he used when he addressed his troops, "first things first, Private. You say you came upon some part of the rebel encampment. That immediately raises two questions, in my mind. Did any of them see you, and will you be able to find the spot again?"

"I am sure I was not seen, my lord", replied the young soldier, "I took great pains to remain unseen. As for your other query, I know exactly where they were, and I can take the men there."

C'odi nodded. Picking up the sword that lay on top of his bedroll, he dropped it into the sheath hanging at his side.

"Good", he said, starting for the door, "Go find Sergeant Brya'an and tell him to gather the men at the edge of the clearing; he has one hour to have everyone packed, armed, and in formation. We leave tonight."

[xxxxxxx]

Jeff leaned back against an ancient tree, its gnarled roots pushing up from the ground to form natural arm rests. It was surprisingly comfortable, and he was sure he could fall asleep here, given the opportunity. He was exhausted, and sore; it had been a long day, hauling water from the creek, chopping wood, and sparring with his strange twin. He was certainly accustomed to hard work, but not the back-breaking labor that marked the everyday lives these people led.

Though, the young Hardy had to admit that he appreciated them keeping him busy. Had he been forced to sit in the seclusion of a guarded tent, he was sure he'd have quickly lost his sanity. Chores, at least, kept his mind occupied.

Glancing over, Jeff found Jeffrey sitting nearby, carving a piece of scrap firewood into a doll for one of the younger children. The young Hardy watched as his doppelganger's thin, nimble fingers skillfully worked the knife, slowly but surely carving a grinning face into the smooth, flat piece of oak.

"You really have a knack for that, Jeffrey", he said, smiling, his pleasant tenor breaking the comfortable silence.

Jeffrey smiled in return, his eyes never leaving his work. "Thank you", he said shyly, "I've always tried to use my spare time for crafting toys and games for the camp children to play with. It may seem like a strange hobby, but the little ones love the gifts that I bring them, and they desperately need childish distractions every now and again, given the fact that their lives here are so difficult and dangerous."

Jeff nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. He studied his twin closely as he worked, finding it interesting, and a little disturbing, that his doppelganger had artistic leanings. He wondered what else the two of them might have in common?

Jeffrey leaned in, staring hard at the doll's emerging eyebrows. He made a small cut, then appraised his work with a critical eye. Finally, he put down his knife, sighing heavily. "I think I'm done for now. Did you want to head back into camp, or stay here for a little while longer?"

Jeff shifted, sinking down deeper into the nest of roots surrounding him. Smirking, he replied, "Can we stay for a little while longer? I don't think my muscles are functioning just yet."

Jeffrey laughed. "You're _still_ sore from hauling the water buckets?"

"Actually, I think it was chopping firewood that did it. I don't know how you do that every day of your life."

Jeffrey smiled. "I suppose you just get used to it after awhile."

An easy silence fell then, as Jeff settled himself more comfortably at the base of the tree. He sighed, allowing his aching muscles to relax, allowing the peaceful sounds of the forest to lull him into a partial stupor. The greenish half-light of the forest, the feel of grass and soil beneath his fingers, the tree at his back and sides, cradling him; all succeeded in making him feel warm, and safe. He closed his eyes, floating in an exhausted, blissful haze.

"Jeff?", Jeffrey said quietly, his tone filled with anxiety.

The young Hardy's eyes shot open.

Looking over, he saw that Jeffrey was watching him with a nervous, wary expression.

"What's wrong, Jeffrey?", Jeff asked, suddenly anxious himself. He wondered what could have caused such an extreme mood shift in such a short amount of time. Did he even _want_ to know?

"Jeff", Jeffrey said timidly, "May I ask you something?"

"Sure, Jeffrey", he replied, eyes intent on the pale young man before him, "Ask me whatever you want."

Jeffrey looked truly conflicted when he spoke. "Forgive me for mentioning this. You really do have _enough_ to worry about in your present situation, after all." Jeff said nothing, only nodded nervously. Jeffrey continued, "It's just that, I can no longer stay silent on this matter. It's been bothering me a great deal."

Jeff watched him with a wary gaze. "Um, well, things certainly couldn't get worse for me, so go ahead, I guess. Ask away."

Jeffrey looked away, unable to meet Jeff's eyes. "Since I've been getting to know you, Jeff, I've been noticing that the two of us have a great many things in common. We share many personality traits, and interests; likes, and dislikes."

Jeff nodded in acknowledgement. "I've noticed that too."

Jeffrey continued, "Well, all of the characteristics we share got me thinking about our brothers. If _we_ are so alike, then it follows that our brothers might be similar as well. Given what we've seen, your brother should share at _least_ one or two of Matthew's characteristics."

Jeff's eyes narrowed. "Why would you say something like that?", he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Sadness was written in every line and shadow on Jeffrey's ashen face. "I am sorry, Jeff", he said quietly, "I did not mean to anger you, or cause you pain. I am simply trying to ascertain whether or not your brother poses a threat to you or your people. After seeing the destruction Matthew has wreaked upon our world-"

Pain flashed across Jeff's face. "Matt is _nothing_ like Matthew", he interrupted, trying to keep his voice steady, "My brother is kind, and caring, and protective, and endlessly loyal. He's probably out of his god damn _mind_ right now, looking for me." The thought of a desperate and forlorn Matt, wandering the streets, desperately searching, made Jeff's gut clench. He wondered how the older Hardy was faring, given the fact that he tended to over-react whenever Jeff's welfare was at stake. The young Hardy prayed that Matt wasn't blaming himself for his disappearance. He could only hope that their friends were taking vigilant care of him in his absence.

"Matt's a good man", Jeff said with conviction, "He'd never consciously hurt anyone."

"Please forgive me, Jeff", Jeffrey said, his tone at once contrite and sympathetic, "I did not mean to offend you."

Jeff shook his head, and sighed. "I'm not offended", he assured his twin, "Simply… tired. Why don't we head back now?"

"Very well." Jeffrey smiled over at his twin as they began walking back towards the main campground. "You know, I heard that dinner's going to be salmon tonight."

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "You seem pretty excited about that."

Jeffrey grinned. "Oh, I am! Salmon is an exceedingly rare treat for us. We rarely find one of their spawning grounds. But the Lolthen Rapids is nearby, and I have it on good authority that that river is teeming with salmon life. We shall eat well tonight, I can promise you that."

Jeff sighed. "A good fish dinner sounds perfect right about now."

"Do you eat a lot of salmon on your world, Jeff?"

Jeff shrugged. "It's not a rare fish or anything, if that's what you mean. I tend to eat it a lot when I'm trying to lose a lot of weight in a short amount of time."

Jeffrey looked puzzled. "Lose weight? Why would you ever need to lose weight?"

The young Hardy grinned, and clapped his companion on the shoulder. "You've obviously never worked for Vincent Kennedy McMahon, my friend."

Ignoring Jeffrey's bewildered expression, Jeff continued towards the low-burning campfires, looking forward to a hearty salmon dinner and a restful night to follow.

[xxxxxxx]

Ex-Lieutenant Regal sat on the floor of a rebel tent, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the Hunter and the Lion.

Exhausted from the day's long and stressful pursuit, Regal slumped over, his head in his hand. He mulled over his situation, trying to look at it from all angles, as a cold and clinical soldier would do. The fury that he felt at Emperor Matthew's betrayal was clouding his judgment, however, slowly tainting his cold and logical mind. He still could not fully comprehend why the man had seen fit to sentence him to death when he had been unfailingly loyal to him for so many years. He had always been a faithful and trustworthy servant, never questioning the emperor's orders, no matter how outlandish or cruel they may have been. Even knowing Matthew's penchant for impetuous brutality, he would not have thought this situation remotely possible.

No, he realized grimly, he'd never seen this coming.

Chilled to the bone, the captive soldier moved closer to the meager fire that burned in a small, sunken fire-pit in the middle of the tent, ever-attentive to the sounds filtering in from outside. Frustratingly, there had been nothing that could be of use to him; only snippets of meaningless conversation, and occasional, raucous laughter. No scrap of information that might, should he escape from this wretched camp, interest his emperor enough to place him in his good graces once again.

He shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground, grunting in annoyance as his lower back twinged. It had been hours since two burly rebel guards had escorted him here, only to leave him completely alone. Regal wondered if his captors even planned on visiting his makeshift prison tonight.

He supposed he should be thankful for the delay. For he knew full well that, when the rebels did finally get around to dealing with him, he would probably be facing an immediate death sentence. He accepted this. After all, it was any soldier's honor to die on the field of battle, at the hands of a capable enemy.

Despite his bleak circumstances, he found that he was greatly looking forward to meeting the rebel leaders. By all accounts, it should be an encounter any true warrior would dream of undergoing.

After all, the Hunter and Lion's exploits were legendary, both on and off the battlefield; the fact that they had managed to evade Emperor Matthew and his armies for over a decade only bore out their reputations as brilliant military tacticians and powerful leaders beloved by their people. It would be interesting to see if the rebel generals lived up to their lofty reputations in person.

Suddenly, he heard voices outside. It sounded like three or four men, having a rushed, softly-spoken conversation. He strained to hear what was being said, but found, to his everlasting frustration, that he was unable to make any of it out.

Sighing resignedly, Regal stood, readying himself for the confrontation. He straightened his tunic and brushed the dirt from his clothes and hair. Crossing his arms over a chest built up from years of hard soldiering, he stood firm, glaring darkly at the tent flaps which would, at any moment, pull back to provide his enemies with an entrance.

Moments later, a strong, deep voice called, "We're coming in, Lt. Regal! Please back away from the door and keep your hands in plain view."

"At least my captors have the courtesy to be _polite _when ordering me about", Regal grumbled sarcastically, under his breath.

A tall, grim-looking blonde man entered first, his hand resting comfortably upon the hilt of an impressive broadsword. The man's sharp eyes glittered with an unsettling combination of malice and intelligence as he openly studied the former officer, seemingly unintimidated by Regal's fierce glare or formidable reputation.

This one _had_ to be the Hunter, Regal mused.

"Well, just look at that", a voice dripping with cocky amusement suddenly sounded from the tent entrance, "Looks like the emperor's lapdog got himself lost in the woods. What a terrible shame for him."

The imprisoned soldier looked past the stoic figure standing before him to see a second man enter, then pull the tent flaps firmly closed. He was obviously a few years younger than the first man, though he walked with an air of easy confidence, and the athletic grace that Regal immediately recognized as the mark of an experienced swordsman.

Clearly, this was the Lion.

"Lieutenant Regal", the presumed Hunter quietly interjected, "I have waited for many years to see you in one of our prison tents. It was your regiment, after all, that captured my wife and placed her in the Cells of the Damned."

"Perhaps", Regal replied noncommittally, "I have captured many rebels in my time-"

"She died there, rotting away in the darkness, though it did not have to be so", Hunter continued as if the prisoner had not spoken, "You are little better than your filthy emperor, blindly following his orders and ruining innocent people's lives in the process."

Regal glared. "Call me what you will, Hunter, but at least _I_ am not a fool", he snarled, "You both have dedicated your lives to removing Emperor Matthew from the throne, but you do not realize- There _is_ no going against him. He owns this world, and everyone within it. Including you. Including your people out there."

The Lion smirked. "Do you hear that, Hunter? Matthew _owns_ us." He took a step towards Regal, wild-eyed and eager for confrontation. "If that's true, my friend, then why aren't we rotting in the dungeons beneath his foul keep?"

"It shall only be a matter of time", Regal replied, his tone as menacing as it was confident, "The emperor's elite regiments venture further into the forest each day. There is only so much ground that you can cover, only so much foliage that you can disappear under; the troops continue to memorize the sylvan territories, and I can assure you with all conviction that one day they shall become as adept as you at setting traps and hiding amongst the wooded terrain. You shall be caught."

"I've heard enough of your empty threats, Lieutenant", interjected Hunter, his tone cold, "Now, you're going to tell us why you were wandering around in the deep woods, alone."

Regal curled his lip in disdain. "I was out for a leisurely stroll."

The Lion let out a loud, boisterous laugh. "Wearing full battle armor? In enemy territory?" He glanced over at his companion. "I think I'm beginning to like this guy. At least the lies he fabricates are entertaining."

Hunter watched the captive soldier closely, a forbidding expression upon his chiseled features. "I suggest you cooperate with us", he said, "We will show you no mercy, should you decide to withhold information."

Regal looked away. "I see no reason to cooperate. Your threats mean absolutely nothing to me."

The Lion smirked, and pulled out a dagger he'd concealed in his boot. He swooped in and pressed the blade to Regal's face, his other hand effectively trapping the ex-lieutenant's wrists against his chest so that he could not counter-attack.

"Oh, I think you'll cooperate with us", Lion said, pressing a little harder with the blade and drawing a thin line of dripping blood, "We may not be as cruel as your pig emperor, but we have our ways of getting loyalists to talk, when necessary. Remember, Regal, there are a lot of people in this camp who have lost loved ones to Matthew's butchery. I'm sure they'd love to have just five minutes alone with you-"

A distant, pained scream abruptly sounded from what was most likely the campground area.

"What the hell was that?", exclaimed Lion, who immediately released the prisoner and pushed him away.

Hunter was listening at the tent flap, his sword drawn and at the ready.

Another cry echoed through the nighttime woods, someone yelling something unintelligible. Followed immediately by another scream of pain.

Hunter and Lion glanced at each other, wide-eyed. What was happening? Were they under attack?

"Watch him", Lion said, gesturing to Regal with his sword, "I'll look outside." Hunter nodded in assent.

He cautiously made his way outside, glancing around in every direction, his sword raised protectively in front of him. In the distance, he could hear sounds of shuffling, running, and general chaos. There was the pounding of horses' hooves.

People yelling. People crying. People in pain.

Hunter joined him now, firmly gripping one of Regal's arms. The ex-lieutenant's wrists had been bound firmly in front of him.

"It's an attack, Hunter. It sounds like a large force."

"We haven't any choice", the older man replied, "_A'aleh patreyahh sehn_?"

Regal stared at him, thinking he'd lost his mind. What strange gibberish was he speaking?

Lion nodded. "_A'aleh patreyahh sehn_. Let's go."

Hunter pulled an unresisting Regal around to the back of the tent, where their freshly-watered, freshly-fed horses were tied up and waiting to be mounted.

Lion forced Regal up onto his steed, then climbed on behind him.

"No funny business, Lieutenant Regal", he said, "I've still got my dagger handy."

"Where are we going?", Regal asked sourly.

"You'll see when we get there", Lion replied, "Until then, just relax and enjoy the ride." He spurred the horse on then, moving at top speed towards the heart of the rebel encampment.

Hunter galloped beside him, his sword at the ready, fury sparking in his bright blue eyes.

The rebel leaders halted their mounts at the edge of the main clearing, stunned at what they were witnessing. The once-peaceful campground had become a field of slaughter, a horrific, blood-drenched tableau covered with the grievously wounded and dying.

Battle-hardened soldiers with axes and swords were chasing after screaming women and children, cutting them down like wheat. Trained rebel soldiers tried to fight back, but their weapons were far inferior to the emperor's magically-enhanced steel. Everywhere around them, the Hunter and the Lion saw their people dying.

"Let us hurry", Hunter said somberly, "There are still many here that we can save."

Lion didn't answer. He simply spurred his horse forward with a great war cry, drawing the attention of everyone in the camp.

Hunter followed closely, hacking and slashing his sword at any soldier who dared come near.

"Get them!", someone bellowed, "They are the two rebels Emperor Matthew seeks! Capture them alive!"

Hunter and Lion continued fighting zealously, enjoying the heat of the battle, cutting down soldiers left and right. They were surrounded by the clashing of metal, and the spray of blood, and the grunting of the soldiers as they jostled to get past each other in order to stab at the mounted rebels. They fought, locked in a furious battle, each dead soldier payment taken in blood for the rebels killed that night.

But then, somehow, a voice penetrated the overwhelming din of death and madness. It was someone speaking loudly, somewhere nearby, and it immediately caught Lion's attention. "Sir! I've confirmed that the man on the Lion's horse is the traitor Regal! He must be a prisoner, as his hands are bound."

"You are to kill him, as per our original orders from Emperor Matthew."

"Yes, Sir!"

_How very interesting_, thought Lion as he stabbed his blade into an unfortunate soldier's throat, _It looks like _ex_-Lieutenant Regal and I will have much to chat about later._

"Are you ready?", yelled Hunter, who was swinging his sword in a great wide arc and neatly slicing a soldier's exposed throat.

"Now!", replied Lion.

They spurred their trained horses on, immediately breaking through the line of foot soldiers that surrounded them. As they galloped through the encampment, they bellowed, "_A'aleh patreyahh sehn_! _A'aleh patreyahh sehn_!"

The still-surviving rebels, wounded, exhausted, and dejected, listened to their leaders' cries, and took heart. They knew what to do now. They heard the strange, seemingly nonsensical commands, and suddenly knew that everything would again be alright, and that Matthew would pay for this attack, tenfold.

Instead of staying to fight a losing battle against superior forces, they melted into the dark woods, disappearing into a network of pre-laid, camouflaged hidey-holes, following their leaders' cryptic instructions, instructions only an inducted rebel would have been able to comprehend.

_A'aleh patreyahh sehn_.

It was a simple phrase in the tongue of the ancients, a forgotten language spoken in a forgotten time. The earth had been pure then, the skies clear. And the people, they had been innocent, knowing nothing at all of violence. Or so it was written.

Adapting the ancient language of a peaceful people to use as the rebels' secret code had seemed very appropriate, somehow. So the Hunter and the Lion had made their people memorize simple phrases in the ancient language, in case of attack. That way, they could easily communicate their intentions to their people, even if the enemy was present and listening.

_A'aleh patreyahh sehn. _"Go to the caves."

Beyond the borders of the camp now, Hunter and Lion easily evaded the pursuing foot soldiers. They prayed their people had gotten the message.

Hunter pulled at the reins of his great mount, turning the steed about so he could look back at the distant campfires. The invading soldiers were silhouetted against the blazing fire, moving frantically around their camp, searching every crevice, tearing everything apart, destroying.

"We shall have revenge for the people those soldiers killed tonight", Hunter said quietly, "I swear it."

Lion clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. We have to get out of here, before those idiotic soldiers track us down."

Hunter nodded, and turned his mount away. "I just hope Jeffrey's alright. I know I can't go looking for him, but-"

"That kid can handle himself. He's getting pretty good with a sword. And he has Jeff with him, don't forget. Didn't he say he's some kind of fighter?"

"I believe so."

Distant voices sounded in the forest.

"We have to go, now!" Without looking to see if Hunter was following, knowing that he would, Lion spurred his mount on at top speed, galloping to the east, and the secret caves that would hopefully be the rebels' sanctuary for the time being.

Hunter tailed him closely, the night wind crisp and chilly as it hit his skin and lifted his long blonde hair.

He knew that they were still very much in danger. He also knew that he had to escape this place, for the sake of his people. He readied his sword, gripping it tightly with steady, competent authority, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

But his thoughts… they were firmly fixed upon the camp, and his missing son.

[xxxxxxx]

Jeffrey led Jeff to the supper line, where the distinct, tangy smell of cooking fish permeated the air. Jeffrey inhaled, smiling widely.

"Ah, salmon", he said dreamily, "It smells wonderful."

"Yeah, it looks awesome", agreed Jeff, "I'm starving. I can't wait to eat."

He looked around him and took in his surroundings. Happy, congenial people, active, giggling children, loving families, all enjoying good food and each other's company. It somehow seemed impossible that these gentle and contented people could be at war.

"Jeff?", Jeffrey's voice pulled him out of his reverie, "Here you are." He looked over at his twin, and found him offering a plate of steaming fish. Smiling, he thanked him, as well as the cook, a gruff old man whose name was Rupert.

As they made their way to a seat around the campfire, they immediately came to realize that there was a palpable buzz of excitement in the air. Everyone was involved in intense discussion about something, though the two newcomers couldn't make out exactly what it was.

"Stephen", Jeffrey addressed the man sitting next to him, who turned at the sound of his name, "What's going on? What is everyone talking about?"

"Oh, you didn't hear, Jeffrey?", Stephen replied excitedly, "Two of the border guards snagged ol' Lieutenant Regal up. They've got him in the leaders tent now."

Jeffrey's eyes widened in amazement. "How did he end up out here? Didn't he have patrols with him?"

"No, he was all by his lonesome. And _that's_ what everyone's talking about", Stephen said, "Some are saying this is a trap. Others are glad that we finally have some leverage over Matthew. Either way, says I, it's good dinner conversation."

Jeffrey smiled, and turned back to Jeff, a bit stunned at the news he'd just received.

"Who's this Lieutenant Regal?", asked Jeff, taking a bite of salmon.

Jeffrey sighed. "A very evil man, who has spent years carrying out the emperor's orders as his military leader. If the black mage Marckus is Matthew's right hand, then it could be said that Lieutenant Regal is his left."

"Well, then", Jeff said, "I hope Hunter and Lion give him what's coming to him."

"In that, you're not alone", Jeffrey said thoughtfully, "Although, I do wonder what path father will actually take with the Lieutenant. After all, he is largely responsible for mother's death."

"She died in the Cells of the Damned, right?", Jeff asked quietly.

"Yes", Jeffrey replied, his face downcast, "But it was Regal's regiment that captured my mother and threw her down there, to die slowly as a result of starvation and disease."

"I'm sorry you lost your mother that way, Jeffrey", Jeff said softly, "It's… not fair that she was taken away from you like that."

Memories abruptly hit him of his own mother, of being forced to say goodbye to her for the last time at an age when death was something barely understood, a distant shadowy concept not needed, or wanted, or asked for.

He put the plate of fish on the ground, suddenly no longer hungry.  
"Are you alright, Jeff?", Jeffrey asked, concern written on his pale features.

Jeff nodded, and forced himself to smile. "I'm fine. Sorry. I guess I just really am tir-"

A loud, piercing scream suddenly cut the early evening air, coming from the direction of the darkening forest. Everyone froze, all conversation halted. An uneasy silence fell over the campground.

No one moved. No one breathed.

Abruptly, the unnerving sound of distant shouting echoed through the woods, unfamiliar people barking coarse, hurried commands. There was the metallic scrape of weapons clashing together, and hoof beats pounding towards the crowded encampment.

"Take up your weapons!", someone shouted, "We're under attack!"

Everywhere, it was chaos, people running back and forth, looking for something to fight with. Children were crying, mothers pulling them protectively to their bosoms as they tried to find a safe place to hide.

Jeff stared, frozen with fear, as the first wave of Matthew's soldiers rode into the clearing. He jumped when he felt a sudden tug on his arm. Looking over, he was relieved to find that it was only Jeffrey.

"This way, Jeff!", he urged, pulling him towards the woods, "We must hurry!"

Numb with terror, Jeff followed, grateful that his counterpart seemed to have some idea of what to do in a situation like this.

Once they'd slipped past the borders of the encampment and into the shadows of the deep woods, they made their way east, running, never stopping to look back. After a while, they slowed to a brisk walk, Jeffrey's sure steps guiding them through pitch-black, nighttime woods, leading them ever deeper into the sylvan territory. They walked for hours, until Jeff was sure that he would fall to his knees from exhaustion. Jeffrey did not falter in his step, however. He continued on, Jeff following him closely, afraid that if he fell too far behind, he would lose himself in the great, dark forest.

Finally, dim sunlight began to filter through the treetops, and Jeffrey indicated that they could rest.

Jeff gratefully collapsed back against one of the huge, ancient trees, relieved to be able to sit down.

"Where are we going?", he whispered as quietly as he could, afraid of soldiers in the woods hearing him and tracking them down.

"You don't have to whisper here.", Jeffrey said, "Matthew's soldiers wouldn't dare come to this place. They're afraid of it."

"Why?", asked Jeff, his eyes widening.

"Because it is a holy place, blessed and sanctified by a holy man. A cleric, to be exact."

"A cleric?" Jeff looked dubious.

"Oh, yes", replied Jeffrey, smiling, "He's very wise, and very kind. And he has been my father's friend and ally for many, many years. He lives just over there, in that system of caves." Jeffrey pointed to a looming rock not too far away. There were several yawning gaps in the ancient stone, any one of which could have led to the cleric's underground home.

"And he'll take us in? Shield us from Matthew?" Jeff had trouble trusting anyone on this world. No one had been what they seemed to be. Nothing made sense here.

"Absolutely", said Jeffrey, "He is one of our greatest friends, and strongest supporters."

Jeff could only nod noncommittally. He'd believe it when he saw it.

He decided to change the subject. "Um, Jeffrey…"

"Yes?" He smiled politely, earnestly.

"Your people were attacked last night. They could still be out there, fighting those soldiers. I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

Jeffrey suddenly looked very sad, and very weary. "You know, my father has taught me many important things, things I'll need to know for when I begin to lead the people. But there was one lesson in particular which was, without a doubt, the hardest I've ever had to learn. He said I must realize that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. And that means learning to leave friends behind, to fend for themselves, even if I know that it will mean their deaths. He told me that I must always keep myself alive at all costs, because one day I shall lead the rebels, and without a strong leader, the cause will be lost. It is the sacrifice he himself makes, each time there is a battle. He knows he cannot save each rebel at his side, and he has had to watch many a friend die because of Matthew's cruelty. But he reminds me, as I remind you now, that those deaths will not be in vain. And the best thing we can do to honor the memory of the dead is to be victorious in this war."

"I don't know how you people live like this", Jeff said, his face tight with some unreadable emotion, "Constantly running, constantly in fear that you're going to be tortured or killed… I don't understand it."

"All we can do is live our lives, and enjoy the time we have been given", Jeffrey replied quietly, "If we allow despair to touch us, then Matthew has already won."

Jeff gazed over at his doppelganger, who was thoughtfully studying the distant tree line, his long blonde hair blowing gently in the warm, morning breeze.

"I guess we should go in, then", Jeff sighed, "I know you say we're safe here, but I won't feel like I can relax until we're underground."

Jeffrey couldn't disagree.

They crossed the field of grass and wildflowers that stood between the edge of the forest and the caves, moving quickly and quietly. Once they were standing in the shadow of the great rock, Jeffrey began fishing around in one of his pouches for something. After a moment, he produced a smooth, polished stone with a runic symbol etched clearly into its surface.

"What's that?", asked Jeff, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"This", Jeffrey answered, "is the key to get inside. Now, I just have to remember where the keyhole is." He studied the uneven surfaces of the rock, running a discerning eye over its nooks and crannies. Finally, he found a light, weatherworn rune carved into one of the walls, a mark that would have been barely noticeable, were one not looking for it.

"Come and stand beside me, Jeff", Jeffrey said, "We'll have to be quick."

Jeff shot his companion a look. "Quick? What do you mean?"

"When I hold the runes together, we'll be able to walk through the wall as if the stone were as light as air. Only, we'll have less than ten seconds to get through to the other side. Then, the rock will solidify again."

Jeff sighed. Why couldn't there just be a god damn _door_? He truly and completely hated everything about this world.

"Fine, let's just get it over with", Jeff muttered darkly.

He stood next to his doppelganger. When the rock shimmered, they both ran through as fast as their legs would take them.

What a weird sensation, Jeff thought to himself. It felt cold, and… heavy. He felt pressure, pushing down on him from all sides, the weight of the mountain ready to crush him in less than a second.

He burst from the rock wall just behind Jeffrey, panting and light-headed, just as it turned back into solid rock. Once he got his bearings, Jeff glanced around. His eyes widened in amazement.

A large, grand chamber surrounded them, one that had been magically carved out of the natural, living stone. Ancient stalagmites and stalactites formed majestic pillars. Archways decorated the ceiling, high above.

And at the chamber's center… a great, stone throne, made of quartz and amethyst.

A regal man sat upon it, studying the two of them with kind, blue eyes.

He rose, beckoning them closer.

"Ah, welcome! Your arrival has been awaited, Jeffrey."

The man's sharp blue eyes immediately turned to Jeffrey's companion, who was staring unabashedly, a strange expression upon his face. The cleric smiled.

"And welcome to you as well, Jeff. I have heard much about you, and am eager to speak with you, if you will allow it. But for now, please rest or, if you would prefer, I shall have some food brought to you."

"Food sounds really good, actually. Our dinner _was_ rudely interrupted last night", Jeff said, still unable to rip his gaze from the man's familiar features.

He nodded, and smiled. "Very well. Jeffrey knows the way. He shall lead you to your chamber, and something shall be brought." He walked forward, and placed a firm, comforting hand upon Jeff's shoulder. "And if you need anything at all while you are here, please feel free to ask me."

"I, um", Jeff stammered, "I didn't get your name, sir."

"I am known as Sha'an Michaelis. And I must say, it is a great pleasure to meet _you_, Jeff Hardy." He smiled a wise and mysterious smile. "A great pleasure, indeed."

**Sha'an Michaelis= Shawn Michaels. He's a religious guy, so yup, he gets the part of the cleric. And yes, if anyone reads/watches Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, I did use Sebastian's last name. I'm a Kuro fanatic, so I thought I'd slip that in, hee hee.**

**There's still plenty left to go on this story. Next time, Matt and Matthew meet up, Sha'an and Jeffy have a talk, the emperor's evil plans start to unfold, and MORE MORE MORE!**

**Please REVIEW! **


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